


Poms and Parties

by keiti221



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheerleaders, College Football, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Friends to Lovers, I don't want to mark it as non-con cause it's not, M/M, Original Character(s), Partying, Slut Shaming, but I still gotta warn you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiti221/pseuds/keiti221
Summary: Football players have nice asses and Shiro is no exception - cheerleader Keith takes notice. Plus, during football season, Allura hosts parties. Keith gets drunk at these parties and tries to kiss hot boys. Sometimes hot boys kiss back.





	1. Chapter 1

Skirts. Keith deals with a lot of skirts. It comes with being a cheerleader. Sometimes he wishes there were other guys on the team, but that means he wouldn’t have the respect of the rest of the girls all to himself. For once in his life, he’s getting attention that isn’t negative.

Until game one.

He’s doing a lift. Lift the captain and toss her into the air. Lift and twist. Lanie does the twist and all he has to do is catch her when she falls. She twists flawlessly, her skills as a captain showing as she lands back in his arms. She’s the finale to the mini-sidelines show, so he doesn’t rush her out of his grasp. Lanie smiles and taps his shoulder, gesturing to the cheer box where her water bottle resides and she sits on when they aren’t up and waving their poms. He turns around and steps forward to set her down, but a splash against his face jars him into stillness.

Lanie shrieks, scrambling out of Keith’s arms, beelining for the football player that doused her in sticky green Gatorade. Her words are unintelligible from the distance and speed they’re going, but his booming voice echoes towards Keith’s ears with an unmistakable sourness.

“I was trying to hit the faggot.”

Keith can’t help but glance in his direction, a little shocked that the linebacker would waste his time trying to torment him. A dozen girls to him, and the dumbass actually believed he wouldn’t splash one of the girls.

From the corner of his eye, he spots the captain finishing up his drink, staring boldly in his teammate’s direction. He crushes his cup into the trash can and saunters over to the other player.

“Jensen, I think we owe an apology.”

The bigger man throws his hands up. “I did!”

The captain shakes his head, his bleached bangs swaying with the motion. “I got that. I meant to him.”

Keith’s face turns a furious shade of red when he sees a finger being pointed at him.

“I don’t owe him nothin’. Didn’t even get him.”

“You called him a fag, Jensen.”

The linebacker crosses his arms. “Not sorry for that.”

“Apologize or I’ll have the coach bench you.”

The bigger man grits his teeth. “Sorry.”

Unsure of what to do, Keith gives him a thumbs up and takes a few steps back, attempting to remove himself from the situation. He’s not halfway around before the captain’s voice pulls him back.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Jensen. He’s an ass.” The man laughs lightly, “I don’t know what to do with him sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s no big deal. I’m familiar with his term of choice.” Keith hesitates, “Thanks though.”

“Sure.” He wipes his hand on his jersey and holds it out. “I’m Shiro.”

“Shirogane goes by Shiro?”

“Well… It’s Takashi technically. But I prefer Shiro.”

“Ahh.” Keith takes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Shiro bites his lip and glances toward the clock, noticing the dwindling time before the 4th quarter ends. “You got a name, cheer boy?”

Keith can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Keith Kogane.”

“Sweet. You know Allura?”

“She’s a close friend of mine.”

Shiro lights up. “So I’ll see you at her party tonight?”

“I’ll be there.” He points to the clock. “If you can pull out a win.”

Grinning, Shiro glances at the scoreboard. “Only three points down. I can do that.”

The captain runs off to meet the rest of his team and Keith unabashedly watches his taut ass bounce away. Him and a few of the other cheerleaders.

 

With the first win of the season under their belt, Allura’s party season starts off with a bang as well. Ever the entertainer, Allura opens her massive house every football season for after game parties. There’s drinking, swimming, drinking, games, and drinking. Plus the occasional order of a dozen extra large pizzas.

The party starts at 11:30 and, as always, Keith is early. He greets the silver clad girl with a kiss on the cheek and links arms with her, descending the rest of the stairs together.

“I met a boy tonight.”

She perks up. “Ooh. Do tell.”

“He’s a football player.”

“Nice ass?”

“Perfect.”

She hums, “I like him already. Who is it?”

“Shirogane.”

“As in the captain of the team?”

“Mhmm.”

Allura deflates a little. “Why do you always fawn after straight boys?”

Keith laughs, “It’s a gift.” He guides them toward the kitchen island, cracking open a bottle of cinnamon whiskey. “I might have a chance though.”

“Is that right?”

The liquor warms his throat and burns his insides. “He seems like the type that’ll take a blow from anyone if he’s drunk enough.”

Rolling her crystal blue eyes toward the ceiling, Allura shakes her head. “Can’t say that you’re not one to try. But you don’t want to get on the bad side of the captain.”

“I don’t think he has a bad side.” Keith winks. “He looks good all over.”

She scoffs and gives him a playful shove before circling the counter to pour herself a mix of peach schnapps and mango juice. She holds out her glass. “To the first win.”

 

With the living room cleared of all furniture, and the bass booming over mounted speakers, Keith slides onto the wood flooring in satin boxers, his cheer top, and socks, swirling in a circle, drink in hand. He glides around couples, body feeling disjointed from his consciousness. Going for another sip, he grumbles when nothing hits his lips. Staring at the empty glass, Keith blindly inches toward the kitchen. Hands shaking, he pours another glass, hoping another few ounces would erase ‘faggot’ from screaming in his head.

He twirls on his toes, tottering back toward the speakers in the hopes that the bass would turn his thoughts into liquid and the venom could drip out. Delete today. Keith takes a sip, lips tingling with the cinnamon and alcohol content. His eyes glaze over the crowd of dancing bodies, hoping to find a single man to wedge himself up against. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t get punched for grinding on a straight boy. But the whiskey whispers sweet nothings and tells him not to care either way.

His legs tremble as he steps foot on the hardwood floors again, and he staggers back, bumping into someone. The person grabs his bicep and Keith’s inebriated mind tells him to swing. His whiskey ends up on the man’s pants.

“Keith?”

“I’m Keef.” He swings again, tossing the crystal ware onto the ground, his brain barely registering that it rolled away from him. “Who dare? Who-” He tries to pull his body away from the man’s grip. “Dares…”

“It’s me. Shiro?”

Blinking slowly, Keith cranes his head to the left, twisting his body to match the uncomfortable angle. “Mmm.” He gives Shiro a sloppy grin. “Ball boy.”

Shiro runs his eyes down the whole of the man in his grasp. “You’ve been having fun. Drink all the fireball, cheer boy?” He glances toward the stairs, noticing a pair of pants hanging from the banister. “How about we put those back on, yeah?”

“I’m free.”

Pursing his lips, Shiro suppresses his laughter, “Alright then.” He tows Keith toward the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle and a hard cider from the fridge. “Let’s go upstairs. Think you can manage that?”

Keith shakes loose of Shiro’s hold and stumbles toward the staircase. He takes them slowly, grabbing onto the railing for dear life. He makes it half way before Shiro wraps an arm around his waist and hauls him up the rest of the way.

“You know which rooms Allura left open?”

Holding up two fingers, Keith nods. “All the floor.”

Shiro ventures ahead to locate an empty room before returning to tow Keith along. The room he secures is the library. The room smells like ink and paper and there’s a soft electric glow coming from the fireplace. A fake flame burns with the heat of a dead star and Shiro admires its uselessness with a smirk. He drops Keith on the daybed, hoping the boy won’t be smothered in all the pillows as he makes his own way to the loveseat across from him.

Keith sits up too fast and sways with the motion of his own head. He narrows in his focus on Shiro and frowns when his hand touches the water next to him. “I don’t want this.”

“It’ll make you feel better in the morning. I promise.”

Groaning, Keith opens the bottle and drinks a little, splashing himself with the contents more than once. He sets it down on the coffee table in front of him, knocking it over as he sits back.

Shiro starts up and rushes out of the room, returning with a towel. He mops up the mess and shoves Keith down by the shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

Grumbling, Keith attempts to refuse, but the warmth of the whiskey has drained into his bloodstream too extensively and soon before long his eyes are fluttering shut, closing to the image of Shiro scanning the book shelves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question - Which is more preferred: longer chapters (but updated less often) or shorter chapters (with possible weekly updates)?

In the morning, there is aspirin and a fresh bottle of water on the coffee table. Shiro is long gone and Keith’s head hangs like a lead weight. His pulse pounds in his temples and he shoves a pillow into his face, guarding his eyes from the light coming in via the sheer curtains. His joyous silence doesn’t take long to be interrupted. Pidge comes bounding into the library, landing in a recliner and greeting Keith with a loud ‘hello’.

Keith responds with a groan.

“I met Shiro. He told me all about you and your eventual hangover.” She points to the items on the table. “I didn’t think football players could be as nice as he is.”

Narrowing his eyes, Keith speaks slowly. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing yet.” She grins. “But that’s only because I don’t know if you like him.”

Taking the pills and water in hand, Keith shrugs. “You must not have talked to Allura.”

“Oh, I did. There’s just a big difference between thinking he has a great ass and wanting to have his ass.”

Keith pales. “Can we talk about this later?”

Pidge stands and lingers at the door. “Of course. We have a whole week. After all, he said he’d be back for the next party.”

Stomach stirring, Keith lays back down, once again attempting to smother himself with a pillow. Eventually Allura checks up on him, and upon realizing he is still breathing, promptly tells him to get out of her house.

“I can see you turning green every time you move. Go vomit in your car, not my library.”

He drags himself out of the bed and approaches her for a hug.

She flings her hands up and backs away. “I’m not squeezing you.”

“Fine.” He shuffles toward the stairs, watching Pidge down below. “She staying to help out?”

“I offered her Taco Bell.”

Keith manages a weak laugh before tugging his pants off the stairs. “That works every time. I’ll see you later, Allura.”

She blows him a kiss as he’s shutting the front door and he grins, happy to know she’s not genuinely upset with his hungover ass.

He takes the back roads home and sleeps most of Sunday away, hoping to regain some energy for practice the next evening.

 

Keith wakes up halfway through Monday, good as new, glad to not have to explain what mess he got into a couple nights before. Not that he’s unsure someone didn’t get him roaming Allura’s in his underwear on camera.

The days go by in a blur. With classes just beginning, and games ending his week, Keith can’t seem to keep track of all of his responsibilities. At least not consciously. The only thing he really cares about are the games. The roar of the crowd as their team pours onto the field. The horns of the band starting up to bolster the morale. His team’s cheers to rile everyone into a supportive frenzy.

Everything culminates in one amazing night. Win or lose, the experience is what he loves. Though, he prefers it when they win. Allura’s parties are just that much better when people are drinking to have fun rather than forget their losses.

 

But this game is a little boring. Keith sighs, his head buried in his hands, buried in his poms. Their team is up over two dozen points. The fight song has been played a little too much, and even the players look like they want the game to be over. He glances at the rest of the squad and finds them in similar positions to him, exhaustedly staring at the field.

Lanie stands, and encourages the team to perform a moral boosting chant. They follow her lead, but the message is lost on the crowd, who are more engrossed in their soggy nachos than any play that’s being completed on the grass. She sits down with a grunt and rolls her eyes.

“I appreciate that our team is great, but we still have ten minutes left.”

Keith smirks. “Which will stretch into twenty if the coaches have their way.”

“Don’t jinx it.” She stares at the clock. “Why does it always go slow when we’re winning. Last week was so much more…”

“Intense?”

“I guess so.” Lanie yawns and stretches, tossing her curly blond locks over her shoulder. “Have you talked to the football captain since last week?”

Raising an eyebrow, Keith turns his full attention to her. “What makes you ask that?”

“My brother is on the team. Guess he was talking about you in the locker room.”

Keith blushes. “You’re lying.”

She makes an X over her chest. “I swear I’m not.”

“What could he possibly say about me?”

“That you got drunk on cinnamon whiskey and danced in your silk undies?”

Face darkening, Keith hides his shame in his poms. “They were satin boxers.”

Lanie lets out a howl of a laugh and smacks Keith on the knee. “The man stands up for you and you greet him with your drunk ass at Allura’s?”

“It was getting toward one in the morning when I was like that. He was late… I didn’t think he was going to show.”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

Keith groans under his breath and glances at the time left on the clock – 9:34.

 

When Keith arrives at Allura’s, she’s already set up the music, so he gets to putting out the alcohol, making sure to limit his own consumption. He doesn’t get very far with that plan before a couple of shots of tequila are burning down his throat, egged on by early party-goers. Though, he manages to keep his pants on.

On the dancefloor, surrounded by music reverberating in the baseboards, Keith sways in time with the beat, hands pressing against another man’s chest. He knows this guy is straight, but the alcohol in his system is currently convincing him that a female cheerleader is giving him all the attention he wants. So, for this drunk, it’s not a surprise when the captain of the football team pops up behind his partner and steals him.

With a strong arm around Keith’s waist, Shiro tows him away from the overly drunk man at the center of the dance floor. He lowers his head, lips brushing against Keith’s ear, making the boy shudder. “You’re going to give people the wrong idea about Isaac.”

Keith smirks and shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant. “What can I say, he called me a pretty lady. How could I say no?”

Shiro lets out a laugh and releases Keith on the edge of the dance floor. “Need a drink?”

Turning to face the taller man, Keith quirks up an eyebrow. “You offering to get one for me?”

“What do you like?”

The thoughts in Keith’s head of all the potential inappropriate responses make his throat run dry and he rasps out ‘fireball’ before stirring up too much concern. He watches Shiro leave, leaning against the closest wall, feeling the bass pump through his chest like a warning. Don’t. Get. Attached.

Shiro’s reappearance disperses Keith’s deprecating line of thought. He hands Keith the drink, assessing Keith’s analysis of the stemmed cherry floating in the liquor.

“Do you want to see if I can tie this in a knot or something?”

Shiro shrugs. “I’d be impressed if you could.”

Keith plucks it out of the booze and dangles it in front of his lips. “You know it’s a lie, this indicating if you’re good at blowing guys.” He bites off the fruit. “Experience tells you.”

Shiro turns visibly pink in the dim lighting, and he takes a deep breath before downing half of his drink. Keith pretends not to notice, but his smug grin gives him away.

The two of them stand there for a while, both subconsciously bobbing to the beat, words dead between them as a song plays through.

Turning to look at Keith, Shiro finally breaks the loud silence. “You want to go upstairs to talk? It’s pretty loud down here.”

Keith nods and pulls the knotted cherry stem from between his teeth, dropping it in Shiro’s empty cup. He doesn’t fail to hear the hitch in Shiro’s breath. He sets his glass down and heads for the stairs, maneuvering between grinding bodies and clusters of drunk dancers. Shiro keeps his hand on Keith’s shoulder for guidance and the touch sends sparks into Keith’s system. He mentally berates himself for reacting so hopefully.

They steal away into the library again and Shiro closes the door with a sigh. “I forget how tense loud music can make me.”

“So you don’t go to concerts?”

“I do, but like this is too loud and too close to the source. It hurts after a while unless you’re too shitfaced to even notice.”

Keith hums in agreement as he lays himself across the pillow drowned day bed. He scoots toward the wall and pats the space beside him. “So… What did you want to talk about?”

Shiro steps forward slowly, feet hesitating to bring him closer to Keith. “I don’t know. Nothing specific. Not really.” He toes off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and falling back onto the pillows. “I just want to know about you.”

“Gonna ask a question to start then?”

“Sure.” Shiro purses his lips in thought. “Got any siblings?”

Keith grimaces. “Right to the family then. No. Only child.”

“Something wrong with family?”

“I don’t know. A little.” Keith sits up and pulls his knees toward his chest. “I’m an orphan. It’s not really my favorite subject.”

Shiro’s face drains of color. “I’m so sorry.”

Keith offers a small smile. “You’re pretty, so I’ll let it slide.”

Suddenly interested in inspecting his cuticles, Shiro sighs, “Maybe you should start.”

“Alright. Why football? You have the thighs of a baseball player.”

“My dad likes it. When we moved here, he wanted me to do something American, so he signed me up for pee-wee football. I’ve been playing ever since.”

Unable to hide the smile conjured from the thought of a tiny Shiro playing football, Keith directs his attention to his knees with the next question. “So where’d you move from?”

“Japan.”

“Should have guessed.”

“Hmm… Probably. What about you?”

“My grandparents met in the states after they both immigrated. Korean and Japanese. My mom was stunning – out of this world kind of beautiful. She married a weird white guy, so I guess I’m fortunate to look more like her. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He was just odd. ”

Shiro smiles and brushes his fingers along the edges of Keith’s bangs. “You have her hair, I’m assuming. It’s so shiny… and soft.”

Keith’s breath catches in his lungs, leaving him unable to do anything but nod.

Shiro drops his hand to his lap, silently admiring a speechless Keith. “So why cheer?”

Without missing a beat, Keith deadpans in response, “I’m gay.”

Hesitating, Shiro frowns. “Seriously?”

“Seriously am I gay or seriously is that the reason?”

“The… The reason.”

Laughing, Keith shakes his head. “Of course not. I joined to look at boys in spandex.”

Shiro stays silent.

Keith sighs, “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

“C’mon, Keith. I want to know why.”

“I wanted an extracurricular where I could have fun. Cheering is fun. The girls are sweet. Mostly. Well… When they’re not being bitches to each other. We’ve got a lot of boyfriend drama on the squad. It gets tiring.”

“I thought boyfriend drama came from having one.”

Keith’s eyes widen, and he stares at Shiro, mouth hanging. “Did you just insult my singleness?”

Shiro bites his lower lip to prevent himself from grinning. “Maybe.”

Keith sputters, “W-Well look who’s talking! When was the last time _you_ had a girlfriend?”

Shrugging, Shiro remains calm as ever. “Hmm. Let me see… Never.”

“Wait, what? A guy like you? Or is it just because you’d rather sleep around.”

Shiro’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “Stop assuming things.” He leans back and stuffs a pillow in his lap. “I’m gay, Keith.”

Keith starts to say something but stops himself, taking too close of notice to the heat swarming to his face and stomach. The fireball riles his insides and launches his pulse through the front of his teeth, making his head throb and ache. His lips pull into a line, and he holds his breath, waiting for the ‘gotcha’.

After a minute, Shiro finally speaks over Keith’s stunned silence. “I’ll take it you’re surprised.”

“I-Yeah. Am I ever.” He frowns. “I’m sorry for being a dick about the girlfriend thing.”

“Stereotypes, right? I’m supposed to be the epitome of heterosexual masculinity and you’re supposed to be a slutty tease.”

Face reddening, Keith averts his gaze to anything his eyes will land on, save Shiro’s face. Even still, he can hear the smirk in the man’s voice when he lowers his volume.

“Are you a _tease_ , Keith?”

Bending forward, Keith bumps noses with Shiro, whispering against his lips. “ _Yes_.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side, shifting to lean into a kiss when the door slams open. He jolts back and stands from the bed as if he’d been electrocuted.

Keith grits his teeth and turns to look at who interrupted.

Allura stands in the doorway, dripping wet. Her makeup is smeared all across her pretty dark skin and her expression is one of terrifying rage. “Party’s _over_. Help me get everyone out. Shiro, tell your football idiots to respect the host or they’re not invited anymore.”

Standing slowly, Keith glances at the clock. “The party usually ends around two… It’s not even one yet.”

Allura whips her head toward Keith, eyes narrowed. “I got tossed in my own pool. I am not happy. When the host isn’t happy, you damn well know I’m going to make sure these people aren’t either.”

Keith sighs. “I’ll turn off the music and get the air horn…”

He marches toward the audio room and cuts the power to the stereo, grabbing the air horn out of the cabinet nearby. Walking to the balcony, he leans over and sounds off the canister before yelling to the crowd below, “PARTY’S OVER. SOME DIPSHIT THREW ALLURA IN THE POOL AND SHE’S PISSED. YOU PISS OFF THE PRINCESS AND YOU GET NO PARTY. LEAVE WITHIN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES OR SHE’LL CALL THE POLICE.”

A few drunks try to throw empty beer cans at him but they fall short. He rolls his eyes and watches them go. Once the living room is clear, he checks the other rooms until every last person is out, save Pidge and Shiro.

Pidge is bleary eyed from hotboxing herself in the jacuzzi room. She stares up at Shiro and points. “You’re the one with the nice ass.” She tugs Keith over to herself. “This fine gentleman would like a shot at it.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and clears his throat, politely ignoring Keith’s blazing red face. He steps toward the stairs, descending to the kitchen. Beckoning Keith to him, he hands over a trash bag. “Might as well make things easier on her, yeah?”

Keith nods and heads toward the dance floor, sweeping solo cups and cans into a neat pile. By the time they’re done, it’s two.

Shiro takes out the trash and comes back in to wash his hands and grab his car keys. He turns to Keith. “I’ll see you later?”

Opening the door for Shiro, Keith nods. “Yeah.”

“Great.” Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head and brushes back his bangs with a soft smile. “Bye.”

Keith shuts the door and his legs turn to jelly. He slumps against a wall, ridiculous smile plastered on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW it's been a while. I'm sorry about the wait. Finals kicked my ass and then I got sick, so things on the writing front became really slow. Hopefully this chapter will make up for that!

Wednesday, Keith hears through the cheer grapevine that Shiro reprimanded his team for colluding against Allura. Apparently her threat to cancel further parties had its intended effect. No one wants to be the reason that the school can’t party it up at the end of the week anymore.

The game on Saturday is rough. The opposing team is brutal and unrelenting in its charge, and it shows on the faces of the home team. At half time, Shiro slumps to the bench with his head in his hands, shoulders sagging and breath staggering. When the squad is done with their performance on the field, and the marching band has taken their place, he hauls himself up and over to Keith.

“I’m exhausted.”

Wanting to comfort him, but unsure of what contact is unwarranted, Keith pats his chest lightly. “I know. These guys look horrible.”

Shiro outstretches an elbow and leans on Keith’s shoulder. “They are. How is your team doing?”

“It’s difficult to keep moral up when the crowd is grimacing more than anything. But we’re not getting pummeled, at least.”

“Ahh.” Shiro glances up at the rest of the team, attempting to confirm what Keith is saying, but is faced with a dozen stares. He averts his eyes to Keith’s poms, lowering his voice. “Why are they all looking at us?”

Keith smirks. “I think they’re genuinely surprised a guy like you is friends with me.”

“Excuse me? A guy like me?”

“Well, yeah. You’re a football player after all. You said it yourself, you should be chasing their skirts, not admiring my poms.” Keith shakes them for emphasis.

Shiro resigns himself, “Fine.” He stands straight up and stretches. “I might crash when I get home.”

“No Allura’s for you then?”

“Will you be there?”

“Probably. It’s a bad habit”

Smiling, Shiro nods. “It sure is. I’ll try to go then. I’ll tell you if I’m not.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “How? You don’t even have my number.”

“Do you have a sharpie?”

Reaching into a bag, Keith pulls something out. “I have liquid eyeliner. Waterproof.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and holds out the underside of his forearm. “Write it down.”

Ten shaky numbers later, Shiro is heading back to the benches with a wave, a chorus of feminine giggles marking his exit.

Lanie rushes up and grabs Keith by the arm, making him jump. “What was that?”

“Shiro?”

“Yeah. You gave him your number.”

“Because he wants to talk about going to Allura’s later.”

She narrows her eyes, inspecting his face. “Together?”

Keith laughs, “Lanie, he’s straight.”

She peeks around his head at the captain and frowns. “I don’t believe you.”

He shrugs and takes a seat. “Well I guess we both want you to be right.”

 

The game goes into overtime, and despite pulling out a win, the university doesn’t seem to be very thrilled about it – more relieved that it’s over. Keith drags himself home and through the shower before showing up at Allura’s. She’s taking a nap when he arrives.

Nudging her awake, he promises to get the music started and put out the liquor. She allows him to help her out of bed before shooing him off to do what he said.

For effect after a long night, he drops energy drinks into a cooler beside the alcohol, secretly hoping no one dies from the combination of that and dancing. He switches on the pulsing lights and clicks on her regular playlist, plus a couple extra songs he likes. She’ll yell at him for that later but that’ll be later. After unlocking the door, Keith takes a seat on the staircase, watching the crowd filter in over time. He wanders down to the kitchen island, pours a glass, and wanders back to his watchful spot. He does this about five times before he gets bored and begins milling about the company.

It’s five past one when he’s approached by a pair of wandering hands. Unused to being felt up by strangers yet abandoned by sobriety, Keith leans into the touch, glancing up from his drink to notice the burly man in front of him. The familiar looking man stares intently at him and the man with the wandering hands, lips curled into a satisfied smile.

Keith peeks over his shoulder and sighs, “McClain.”

“You look lonely, Kogane. I think I can help with that.” He grinds his hips into Keith’s backside and gestures to the man before them with a jut of his chin. “You remember my boyfriend, Hunk.”

“Vaguely. Come back for more voyeurism?”

Hunk lifts his glass with a grin. “Lance liked your last encounter. So did I.”

Keith groans under his breath and swirls his drink, chasing regrets with the bourbon.

Lance tightens his grip when Keith tries to pull away. “You’re looking for someone. I see that. But he isn’t here.” He points to himself and Hunk. “We are, though.”

Pondering that and savoring the last drop of his drink, Keith sighs, “I’ll dance with you. But no promises.”

Taking Keith’s empty glass, Lance hands it to Hunk and spins to Keith’s front, grabbing his hips and leading him deeper into the dance floor.

 

The second Shiro arrives, he begins fishing through the fridge for a lime to accompany his tequila. He doesn’t find anything and chooses to chase the liquor with cotton candy flavored vodka. Grimacing at the combination, he washes it down with a hard lemonade, trying to remove any unwanted flavors from his mouth. He leans back against the counter and glances at the dense crowd on the dancefloor, knowing he has to trek into the danger zone in order to find Keith.

The drunks are either forgiving or horny. When he manages to sneak through, he’s confronted by another flirtatious dancing body – often one ditching her boyfriend out of convenience. Within a couple of seconds, he narrowly avoids being noticed by a potentially belligerent drunk. It doesn’t take him all too long to find Keith. Dressed in red and black, he’s unmistakable, particularly with the way that he’s grinding on the man behind him. At first it makes Shiro’s face heat up, but realization sets jealousy like a thumb tack into his heart. Unable to stop himself, he charges at the couple, reaching for the guy he doesn’t know.

Shiro shoves him back by the shoulder and steps between him and Keith. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Keith stumbled when Shiro inserted himself between him and Lance and attempts to right this by dragging himself into an upright position via Shiro’s bicep. “You made it.”

Shiro’s frustrations hone in on Keith, his tone is venomous. “You didn’t wait long to forget about me.”

“Whoa, buddy. No need to be an asshole. Keith and I were just dancing.”

“It looked like more than that.” Shiro scans him. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Lance. And you, pal,” He pokes Shiro’s shoulder. “are ruining a good time.”

Keith tugs on Shiro. “He’s not worth the hassle. Leave it be.”

Lance stands taller. “Yeah, leave.”

Shiro balls his hand into a fist but is forced back before he can do anything about it.

Hunk steps between the two men, hands up. “We don’t need to cause any problems.” He shoots a glare at Lance. “Do we?” He glances at Shiro. “You take what is yours, and I’ll take mine. Nothing ever happened, okay?”

Feeling the tension melt out of Shiro’s body at that, Keith pulls harder on his arm, trying to calm him with a suggestion of solitude, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Allowing himself to be lead, Shiro follows Keith down the hall, into quieter and less crowded space. They stop in the middle, and Shiro rips his arm from Keith’s grip.

“What is wrong with you? You couldn’t wait twenty minutes before I showed up to start dancing? Do you make it a point to flirt with every guy that comes into your line of sight? You looked like you wanted to fuck him out there. Do you realize that?” He grits his teeth and shakes his head. “You flirt with me last week and then this week grind with some guy on the dance floor.” He throws his hands out, gesturing to Keith. “You were right. You _are_  a tease.”

Stuttering, Keith bites his tongue before he screams. He lets out a huff of air. “A tease. That’s the worst you got? I’m a tease because I _flirted_ with a couple of guys? Kudos to me for the bare minimum. And why should I wait for you to get here? It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Just because you admitted you’re gay, doesn’t mean you _want_ me.”

Shiro opens his mouth to say something but shuts it again and steps back, a little sobered by his unrighteous anger. “I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t think about-” He sighs, “I didn’t think we weren’t on the same page. So, let me make this clear.” Shiro steps forward and brushes Keith’s hair away from his face. “I want you.”

Keith bites his lip and nods. “I want-”

Beating him to the word, Shiro bends down and presses his lips to Keith’s, silencing any thoughts between them. Keith lets out a soft moan and reaches up to caress his fingers along Shiro’s neck, standing on his toes to deepen the kiss. Grabbing his hip, Shiro forces Keith against the wall with a grunt, pressing their bodies together. Heat courses through Keith’s veins and he bucks his hips against Shiro’s, unapologetically eliciting a lusty groan from the man. His free hand shoves up Shiro’s shirt and pulls at the button on his jeans.

Shiro breaks the kiss with a gasp, “You want these off?”

Keith smirks and detaches himself from Shiro, opening the door to a room beside them. “It’s empty.”

Shiro chases after Keith and blindly locks the door behind them, his eyes glued to Keith who’s unbuttoning his own pants. He swallows the lump in his throat and attempts to look less eager than he is, failing as he pulls Keith into his arms and drops him on the bed. He assists with unclothing Keith, but the boy whines and tugs at Shiro’s shirt before he’s completely naked. Shiro groans and practically rips his top off, hastily jumping out of his own clothes.

Keith shifts back, giving Shiro more space to get onto the bed before teasing the man by pushing at the edge of his own boxers. “I’ll show you mine if you show me-”

Shiro silences Keith with a kiss, climbing over the other man and settling between his thighs. He slides down his own briefs, slowly pulling them off as he watches Keith for any sort of reaction.

Keith licks his lips, his mouth feeling parched as he stares at Shiro’s body. His cock twitches, begging for any sort of touch. He sits up, propping himself on an elbow, and takes Shiro in his hand, stroking him leisurely. His thumb grazes the tip, rubbing a small circle in the pooling precum. He leans forward and gives a long lick to the underside, eliciting a pleasured gasp from Shiro. Keith takes the head into his mouth, toying his tongue alongside its ridge. Shiro lands a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder and reluctantly pushes him back. He shoves Keith down onto his back and drags his boxers down, tossing them off the bed. Shifting so that their hips meet, Shiro drapes himself across Keith, hovering over the man with one hand between them, loosely gripping the both of them as he begins to thrust into his palm.

Moaning, Keith lets his head drop to the pillows, breathy sighs becoming harsh pants as Shiro quickens his pace. He lets go and pulls Keith’s hips closer, rutting up against him faster, his own breath escaping in sharp intervals. He returns to stroking the two of them when Keith sighs his name, a shaky “Shiro” – erotic enough to make the man’s skin prickle. Shiro thrusts against Keith, hand tight around their cocks as he finds the right friction. He tries to pay sole attention to pleasuring them both, but Keith’s soft, trembling voice chanting his name enthralls him. He thrusts wildly, bending over to kiss Keith’s neck and jaw, whispering his name back as an affectionate response.

Reaching between them, Keith joins his hand with Shiro’s and bucks his hips in time with each thrust. He gasps and bites his lip, his head falling back to expose his neck to Shiro’s bites and kisses. The frantic pace builds until neither one can hold on much longer. Shiro’s body goes still as his hand pumps furiously, dragging both of them over the edge. Keith comes with a rough scream, grasping at the sheets and panting, “Shiro, Shiro, Shiro -” until the namesake mutes his voice with a forceful kiss, moaning into the other’s mouth.

The two kiss, bodies trembling against each other. Keith breaks the lip lock in favor of oxygen, staring up at the ceiling as Shiro proceeds to gnaw a purple hickey into his clavicle. He runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair, catching his breath and settling his adrenaline down. Shiro kisses the corner of his mouth and sits up, eyeing the mess on Keith’s stomach.

“Should probably clean you up.”

Keith laughs, voice still unstable. “You think?”

Climbing out of the bed, Shiro wanders to the attached bathroom and finds a wash cloth, tossing it at Keith before returning it to a hamper. All clean, Keith moves to pull on his clothes, but is stopped by Shiro, who pulls him down onto the bed and under the sheets.

“You a cuddler?”

“So what if I am?”

“Nothing.” Keith smiles and shifts closer to Shiro, resting his head on the man’s chest. “I’m just not used to it.”

“You seem to adapt well.”

The buzz of Shiro’s voice in his sternum makes Keith giggle and he sighs, eyes growing heavy. “What can I say,” He yawns, “maybe it’s just you.”

Shiro can’t help but grin. “I’ll take that as a complement.” His reply falls on unhearing ears. He glances at Keith and hums, leaning down to kiss him on the head. “Good night.”

 

The next morning, Keith is confronted by a barrage of light hitting the bed. He stretches his arms and swings his legs over the edge of the mattress, glancing back to see if Shiro is up. Shiro is gone. Nausea sweeps over him with that realization. He didn’t think Shiro would be the type. Not after the cuddling.

Shuffling out of bed and pulling on his clothes from the night before, Keith ambles out of the room and down the hall. He can hear Pidge and Allura talking in the kitchen. He swears they’re debating about which cream cheese brand is best with bagels. When he spots the bowls of cereal, he knows they’re just fantasizing about a better breakfast. He realizes this with a chuckle, and they spot him on the stairs.

“Good morning sleepy head! Did Shiro wear you out last night?”

Turning red, Keith hides his face in his hands. “Allura, you are one woman. How do you know all of these things?”

“Oh, simple. I had Pidge check the rooms to make sure they’re empty. All but one were.”

Pidge shovels a spoonful of frosted flakes in her mouth, grimacing as she does. Her chewing almost masks her words. “You-” crunch “two-” crunch “were-” crunch, crunch, crunch. She swallows and points the damning spoon at Keith. “fucking naked. Nasty boys.”

Keith opens the fridge and pulls out orange juice, shrugging. “Shouldn’t have looked.” He glances at the door. “So… When did Shiro leave?”

“He’s getting Starbucks. Woke up this morning and cleaned the damn place, so I told him he could go get some. My treat of course.”

“Hmm.” Keith sits at the island and drags a box of cocoa pebbles over to him, reaching in and grabbing a fistful. “Know when he’ll be back?”

Allura smirks. “Eager to see him in the daylight again?”

Keith munches through the cereal and shrugs. “I gotta make sure he’s real, right?”

She laughs, “What, do you think it was a dream? Dreams don’t illicit noises like that, darling.”

Pidge groans and rolls her eyes.

A car beeps outside and distracts the trio. In walks Shiro with arms full of coffee. He sets them down as his greeting. “Pidge – cinnamon latté. Allura – vanilla iced coffee. Keith – black iced with two shots of sugar. And a hazelnut macchiato for me.” He kisses Keith on the cheek and grabs a seat beside him. “How’d you sleep?”

Pidge stretches. “Very well, thanks.”

Shiro laughs and snatches the box of cereal from Keith, taking it with him to the cabinet with bowls. “Do you want a proper eating receptacle?” He fishes a spoon from a drawer. “Allura has silverware too. Astonishing, I know.”

Allura gives him the finger and goes back to her bowl of strawberry frosted mini wheats, muttering something under her breath about disrespectful guests.

Shoving a bowl toward Keith, Shiro returns the box of cereal to him. “When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago.” He yawns. “Thanks for the coffee.” Keith takes a long drink and sighs happily. “What are you doing today?”

Shiro leans against the counter, his head in his hands. “I’m not sure actually. I probably have laundry and homework to do, but I’d rather do anything other than that.” He pulls his piping hot cup closer. “Did you have any plans yourself?”

Keith glances at Allura and Pidge, but they bury themselves in their cereal without a peep. “I guess not.”

“We could go to the mall if you want? Or we could go back to my place and watch a movie?” Shiro purses his lips. “Are we at that stage of friendship where we can stand to watch a two hour film together?”

Keith shrugs, opening his mouth to respond when his phone buzzes. He pulls it from his pocket and frowns at the screen, grumbling under his breath. “I think we’re going to have to put things on hold – my aunt needs my help.”

Allura perks up. “Your aunt? Is she okay?”

Nodding, Keith pats his pockets, checking for his keys. “Her arm isn’t in a sling anymore, but she’s still in a cast. Probably needs help grocery shopping or something like that.” He rises from his seat and offers a half wave to Pidge and Shiro. “I’ll be seeing you guys.” He points to Pidge. “Mind your own business with Shiro, alright?”

She continues to chomp on her cereal, giving Keith a blank stare. He leaves the house very unassured.

As he’s driving home, Keith feels a little saddened that he couldn’t spend more time with Shiro, but also glad that he wouldn’t have to face the potential ‘about last night’ conversation. He’s sure that it was good for the both of them, but sobriety has a funny way of making things seem a little different. Despite that lingering worry, he’s peeved that all his aunt required of him was his extra three inches in height to her 5’ 6” frame, seeing that it only takes a few seconds to do what she asks. Nevertheless, he assists her and leaves after lunch to return home.

His dumpy apartment welcomes him with bad lighting, the lingering scent of stale coffee, and a void like emptiness that only having few pieces of furniture can provide. He drops his helmet onto the ground, kicking it toward the now closed door. His keys hit the scuffed kitchen counter with a clattering that echoes throughout the meager space. Clicking on all the fans, Keith drops himself to his bed, overwhelmed by the sensation that his bed is engulfing without another person in it. Part of him regrets staying to sleep beside Shiro, the rest of him wishes he was still asleep beside the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the support you give this keeps me going. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate the words of encouragement - or pure reaction to the story. It's an honor to see your responses, so thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flood of comments after the last update has me blushing. You guys are too good to me. I'm glad to know that you're enjoying the story though!  
> Also, to all who expected this story to be smoother sailing after that last chapter - I'm sorry.

No stranger to drama, the cheer squad faces its worst instigator that Saturday – football players. Jensen and a couple other guys have immersed themselves into the team, trying to hit on the girls before the game starts. When one of them gets smacked and told off for lifting a skirt, the remainder flee for the bench, but Jensen stays to pester Lanie.

He brushes her hair out of her face, blatantly ignoring her expressions of disgust and polite shoves against his hands. She keeps shifting away, but he follows, unwilling to give up just yet. She gives a yelp and strikes him across the face when he grabs her ass. Disarmed for a moment, Lanie scurries away, dragging Keith by the arm to act as a shield.

“He won’t stop touching me.”

Keith takes her hand and guides her to the coach, waiting by her side as she informs the man of how his linebacker is behaving. She flails and points and grunts out an irritated charge. “Maybe you need to teach some of your boys some respect. I’m sick of hearing that my girls are being harassed because they have tits.”

Suppressing a snicker, Keith tries to keep silent his amusement at her choice of words with something so serious.

The coach placates her with a promise to talk to the team and Lanie accepts the vow with a nod, pulling Keith back to the cheer quarters.

Jensen waits for them on an unoccupied box. “You know you can’t hide behind him.” He chuckles, mostly to himself. “I could break that fag in half.”

Keith tenses but Lanie squeezes his arm and pipes up, “If you ever think your disrespectful ass is getting any of mine, you better think again. Why don’t you go back and play with your boys and leave my team alone.” She grabs an open water bottle and dumps it on his head. “You’re not welcome here.”

The linebacker lets out a scoff, slowly rising to his feet. “You little bitch.” He reaches for Lanie’s shirt but Keith shoves them backwards and just out of range.

Seeing the rage in his eyes, Keith can’t help but let out a screech, “COACH!?!”

The older man glances over, finally witnessing the unruliness of his player, and calls him over with a loud bark. Jensen sneers at the two cheerleaders, but does as he’s told.

Keith retires to his box, exhausted already. “That was ballsy.” He picks up the empty bottle. “He could have seriously hurt you.”

Lanie rolls her eyes. “In front of a crowd? Unlikely.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him. He seems a little unhinged.”

“Think it’s steroids?”

Keith smirks. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but that’s not the point.” He sighs, “You have to be extra cautious around boys. Don’t need you getting hurt because of some jackass.”

She places her hand over her heart and coos at him, “Aww. You do care.”

“Just… Please be careful.”

Lanie bounces over and kisses him on the head. “I’ll bring my pepper spray everywhere, promise.”

 

When the game ends, just before Keith grabs his stuff to leave, Shiro catches his stare and sends a wink his way. Heat courses through Keith’s body, landing mostly in his cheeks as he tears his gaze away from Shiro’s. He swears he can hear the man laughing as he walks away. Keith can’t remember a time he’s been more eager to go to one of Allura’s parties.

With his heart, among other things, set on getting laid, Keith goes home to shower before he shows up at the mansion, and Allura is already hard at work finishing preparations. He apologizes for his tardiness and she brushes him off with a compliment of his coconut shampoo, a subtle way of telling him he’s forgiven for being late.

Most of the night, Keith loiters outside. After having seen Jensen lurking about the dancefloor, he hightailed it to the bar by the pool. Currently, he’s swinging his legs to the beat of a techno song, sipping a mango margarita, and watching the front door a little too desperately. When Shiro steps across the threshold, he finishes off his drink quickly, gaining a mild brain freeze in the process, and jumps off the stool.

He maneuvers his way around the crowd and meets Shiro by the kitchen’s island, with a breathless, “Hey.”

Shiro smirks. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Me? Waiting? Not at all.” He bites at his lower lip. “Wanna dance?”

Glancing at the packed dancefloor, Shiro purses his lips, shaking his head. “I’d rather go upstairs.” He cranes his head to look around the crowds. “But I have to talk to someone first. Meet you on the second floor in ten minutes?”

Keith flushes, nodding. “Of course.”

When Shiro walks away, Keith books it upstairs, patience long gone after a stressful week. He finds an empty room and waits at the door, leaning against the frame and counting the pictures on the walls. Time ticks by slowly. And slower. And even slower. Only five minutes have passed by the time he checks his phone again. Keith sighs, his eagerness churning into anxiety. All of his pent up energy is backfiring on him at once – making time crawl.

A hand lands on his shoulder and his heart jumps but his head reels with the stench of alcohol. “Shiro, did you-” He turns and his stomach drops, pulse kicking into overdrive.

“You’re waiting for the captain?” Jensen chuckles, his lips pulling into a sneer. “I should have known he would fuck a faggot like you.”

Keith’s eyes widen and he gasps, weaseling out of Jensen’s grasp and into the hall. A grip on his shirt collar drags him back, causing him to land on his ass in front of the linebacker.

“Nah, we gotta talk, you and me.” He kneels down, and picks Keith up by the front of his shirt, shoving him against the hallway wall. “You- you piece of shit- you fucked everything up.”

Trying to slink out of his predicament, Keith attempts to distract Jensen with a question. “What did I do?” It backfires.

Jensen’s mocking smile turns in to a snarl as his hand slides up and around Keith’s neck. “You got me benched for the rest of the season.” He tightens his grip around Keith’s throat. “Your little tart of a friend. You and her. You gonna get what’s due to ya.”

Jensen constricts his hand and lifts Keith, so that his toes barely scrape the ground. He grins when Keith begins to scratch at his wrist, attempting to pull the man off. “Isn’t fun when tha thing you live for is taken from ya.” He presses Keith into the wall, watching panic wash over his features with a satisfied smirk.

Keith claws at the man’s arm, leaving dark red lines in his wake, but nothing fazes him. His head swoons, and he swings his legs at Jensen but they don’t strike. When he tries to get more oxygen in, Jensen clenches his airway. Keith begins to choke on the pressure. His face heats up and his eyes flutter shut, the world growing dark.

Reality returns when he hits the floor with a hard smack. He rolls onto his back and takes a deep breath, pulse thrumming loudly in his head, his temples aching. Panting, Keith slowly sits up, still bewildered as he tries to make sense of what just happened. Despite his bleary eyes, he finds Shiro in the shadows of the hallway. He’s barely able to figure out that Shiro’s attacking someone before he loses consciousness.

Opening his eyes with a groan, Keith spots Allura wringing out a washcloth. She hands it to Shiro who wipes it over Keith’s forehead and pinked cheeks. He follows the cloth with kisses, a soft exhale of relief following those.

“I thought I was too late.” Shiro sighs, brushing his thumb along Keith’s cheekbone. “I’m so sorry.”

Keith blinks rapidly, rushing his eyes into alertness, and attempts to sit up. Shiro helps him upright and moves to sit by Allura. She leans forward. “Are you okay?”

He nods, taking a deep and shaky breath.

“Can we get you anything?”

He turns down her request instantly. “I just want to go home.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You might still be a little disoriented.”

“I’m fine.” He stands, wavering a little. “Did you get rid of him?”

Allura glances at Shiro. “The cops took him away.”

“Was I out long?” Keith grabs his jacket.

“Ten minutes – fifteen tops.”

He nods. “I’ll see you two later.”

Shiro stands abruptly, “Keith, are you sure-”

“I’m _fine_.”

Eight minutes. That’s all it takes from Allura’s house to his apartment. He’ll be alright – he doesn’t need them to worry. He pulls his keys from his pocket and straddles his motorcycle, revving it to life.

The drive is empty. At half past one, most people are in bed or still partying at a club, he and some jerk with brights behind him are the only ones on the road. When he pulls up to his parking spot, his body aches with the relief that his apartment is on the ground floor and he doesn’t have to climb any stairs.

He jams his keys into the lock and hurries into his home, briefly wishing he had a dog to greet him. Before his helmet even hits the floor, a knock on the door makes his skin prickle. He peeks out the little window at the entrance and sighs, opening it wide for Shiro.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to make sure you were safe.”

“Were you the one with the high beams?”

Shiro turns red. “It’s dark. You’re kind of hard to see during the night.”

Keith dumps his keys inside his helmet and lifts his hands. “All one piece.”

“Thank you for indulging me.” He hesitates, “Guess I’ll be going then.”

Desperately grasping for Shiro’s shirt, Keith pulls him back. “Please don’t.” He knows he’s trembling again but refuses to admit how shaken his encounter with Jensen left him. “Stay.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I need you.”

Shiro crosses the threshold and drops his keys to land on Keith’s. He shuts the door and follows Keith to his room, mirroring his actions in kicking off his shoes and removing his jeans. Ditching his shirt in a pile on the ground, Shiro lays down first, beckoning Keith to join him. Shiro pulls him into his arms, feeling Keith breath heavily and unsteadily.

It’s seconds before Keith bursts into tears. Shiro tugs him tighter against his chest, cradling his head in his hands and whispering affirmations. He lets Keith cry, knowing he won’t want to talk about it – not yet at least.

His sobs eventually subside into hiccups but Shiro doesn’t let go. It’s past two in the morning before he hears a mousy ‘thank you’ and feels a kiss against his clavicle. Keith lets out a heavy sigh and nestles his head against Shiro’s shoulder, his eyes beginning to droop.

 

Morning comes with a flood of light through spread curtains. Keith sits up and glares at them, knowing he wasn’t the one who moved the drapes. The smell of brewing coffee hits his nose and Keith wanders outside his room to find Shiro pouring fresh coffee into clean mugs.

He frowns at the sight, not knowing when the last time he made his own coffee was. His confusion dissipates when he gets closer, being replaced with satisfaction at the sight of Shiro’s butt in tight boxer-briefs. The urge to pinch overwhelms the need for coffee.

Shiro turns, smiling at Keith. “I took the liberty of going to the store. Got you some liquid sugar syrup for your coffee – since you like that sort of thing. And got coffee. Since you were out.”

Keith takes a sip of his piping hot cup and smirks. “You get anything to eat, or can I bite one of your buns?”

Face flushing, Shiro tries to hide his embarrassment with a laugh. “I wish.” He checks his phone. “But I have a group meeting for a project that I’m probably already late to.” Setting his empty mug down, Shiro pulls Keith closer, kissing him deeply. “But I’ll take that as a rain check.”

It’s Keith’s turn to blush. He hums and waves goodbye to Shiro, lips still tingling from when Shiro ended the kiss with a nibble. It isn’t long before the emptiness of his apartment encroaches on lonely territory, so Keith decides to call Allura and see what’s she’s up to for the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, is this a regular update? Shocking. I'm trying not to keep you guys waiting too long between sections. Also, sending a bit of backstory your way.

Allura suggests shopping and, a little more subtly, a discussion of what happened the night before. Keith agrees to one of those things, so they head to the mall. The car ride is quiet, eighties pop filling the space void of discussion. Keith figures she’ll have plenty to say at lunch or while they’re shopping. Spending money always makes things more comfortable for Allura.

She’s in the mood for scarves today, and Neiman Marcus is the place she picks. Fourteen miles to the closest mall with one, but Keith doesn’t mind. He wanted to kill time after all. The second they walk into the store, otherness settles on him like a heavy cloak. The rich flit about from rack to display, display to cases, and all over the store – inspecting, valuing, judging.

Out of place sums his feelings up nicely, particularly compared to Allura. He’s pretty sure her pink lace dress cost more than two weeks of his salary earned scooping ice cream – maybe as much as his rent. His fake leather boots suddenly feel very cheap on his feet, and his Target V-neck looks a little more pilly than it had before they crossed the threshold.

She doesn’t notice his discomfort. Instead, she links arms with him and drags him toward the escalator, knowing exactly what she’s here for. He follows mindlessly, happy to accompany her to her natural territory. She looks so at ease among the wealthy. It strikes Keith as odd that she’d pick up him and Pidge – two broke college students – as her best friends rather than seeking out someone of her caliber.

It was a couple years ago that they met. He and Pidge were on their way back from a conference for school, having met after being forced into a group together for the project they just presented. It went well, but Pidge’s car began to smoke. It was Allura that pulled over to help. She paid for the tow and their lunch. Miraculously, they never lost contact with each other, despite her interning for her father’s company at the time. Now she could run half the place from home if she chose. But you can’t show off new outfits to your kitchen sink.

Stepping off the escalator, Allura pulls Keith in front of her. “You’re awfully silent. What’s the matter?”

He offers a reassuring smile. “I’m just thinking of how we met.”

“Oh.” She grins. “That was a good day. I’ve never been so happy to meet two people stranded on a freeway.” She sighs, “Life is so lovely like that.”

Keith hums. “It sure is.” He points to the accessories corner of the store. “Is that where we’re headed?”

Allura brightens. “Yes. I need a few new scarves. I was thinking square ones, to use as sort of a more stylish ascot? And there was this cashmere one that I saw online and I fell in love-”

She continues to rattle on, hurriedly walking toward the section, Keith trailing and ‘uh -huhing’ as they go. He knows nothing about women’s fashion – his mother never was into the world of clothing. Allura and her interests are a bit of a culture shock sometimes.

He watches her scrape through the racks and tables, plucking the things she likes most, giving her a nod and a thumbs up if it looks good – which it always does. Once she has her arms full, he fetches her a basket and the air shifts around her. He looks up and she’s frowning.

“You’re really quiet today. Being retrospective?”

“A little.”

“Anything about yesterday?”

Keith flinches at the thought. “I don’t know what to think of what happened.” He rubs his neck. “I didn’t mean to get him banned. I was just trying to make sure Lanie was safe, that the coach knew how much of an idiot he was being. I-I-” He sucks in a shaky breath. “I didn’t think…”

Allura touches his arm gently, silently encouraging him.

“I didn’t think he’d attack me. It makes me worried about Lanie.”

Nodding, Allura takes in his concerns. “Well, he’s in jail right now, so don’t let it stress you out too much.”

“About that. How did you manage to get him arrested so quickly?”

“The police come quick when you’re rich and your father bought them their last upgrade of bullet-proof vests.”

“Ah.” Keith hesitates. “What did Shiro do? I didn’t say anything, but I saw his knuckles. Trust me, purple is _not_ their normal color.”

“Hard not to see when his arms are around you, huh?”

“Please don’t distract me. What did he do?”

Shuffling her scarves around, she bites her lip. “He didn’t want me to tell you.”

“Why not?”

She picks up a square, inspecting the floral pattern intensely as she mutters, “He nearly killed him.” She glances up, noticing the panicked look in Keith’s eyes and quickly continues. “He punched him to lure him away from you. And well, it worked. They got into it and at one point Shiro had his knee on Jensen’s chest and was just pummeling him with his fists. The police had to pull him off. He was so angry. Slightly drunk too… There was so much blood that Jensen almost choked on it.” Allura sighs, “It’s not what I wanted to happen in my house, but at least you’re not dead. I’m sure you can see the bruises he left on your skin.” She shakes her head. “Neither one of them wanted to quit that night. Shiro nearly had a panic attack when he carried you to the couch and you wouldn’t respond. He certainly has affections for you.”

Keith scoffs. “Isn’t that what you’ve said about other guys I’ve been with? The ones that stay with me for sex?”

Allura blushes and lowers her voice. “Well his intentions are different, they have to be. You two haven’t-” She trails off, pursing her lips. “Okay, well you two _have_ , but that doesn’t change how he looks at you.”

Keith sighs, “I see how he looks at me, Allura. It’s slightly drunk and full of lust.” Wringing his hands, Keith leans against a table of ties. “He’s no different. As much as I want him to like me, I’ve already fucked this relationship by fucking him.” He lets out a bitter laugh, “I do this every time.”

“Maybe you should ugly yourself up. Less opportunity?”

Rolling his eyes, Keith picks up a silk tie, petting it and holding it up to his chest. “I don’t think that’ll help.” He starts to say something else, but he can see Allura’s scheming wheels moving.

“If I buy you a really nice outfit and make a really nice reservation, will you ask him out on a date?”

“I don’t know if I’m even capable of that anymore. I haven’t actually been on a date in forever.”

“Well, no better time to get back into the swing of things than when a football captain is on the line, is there?”

Keith snorts out a laugh, “You really want me to marry this guy, don’t you.”

She sighs happily, “It’d be the most gorgeous wedding anyone has ever seen. The two of you in tuxes… With flowers everywhere… Your beautiful faces smiling…” She clears her throat. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

Shaking his head, Keith sets the tie down and turns Allura so she’s facing the register. “A little. How about we start with why we came here and work from there.”

 

Whether he liked it or not, Allura ended up buying Keith a shirt – a shirt he chose to wear to her party that Saturday. Slightly billowy, dark red, and chiffon, she told him the scoop neck made his clavicle look tantalizing. That was enough for him, considering Shiro had already shown interest in it before. Keith was sad when that hickey faded. But tonight is new and its young and another victory guarantees a happy Shiro.

The bass calls him again. He takes a swig of beer, grimaces, and heads toward the dancefloor. On his way, Keith bumps into Shiro, arriving early for once. The grin on Shiro’s face is unmistakable.

“I’m right on time apparently.” He sucks in a breath when glancing over Keith’s outfit. “You look…” He bites his lip, eyes roaming up and down Keith’s figure. Borrowed leather leggings from Allura catch him off guard. “Fuck.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “Fuck?”

“Um.” He steps toward the kitchen. “I need a drink, hold- hold on.”

Shiro practically runs for the fridge, pulling out a ‘harder’ lemonade and taking a swig immediately.

Allura appears beside him with a smirk on her face. “He looks good, huh?”

Face still flushed, Shiro groans, “This was your doing?” He finds Keith in the crowd and they lock eyes, Keith giving him a small wave. Shiro takes a long drink. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Snickering, Allura nudges him. “I wouldn’t dare.” She snatches the bottle from him. “It’s rude to keep people waiting.” She gestures toward the dance floor. “Have fun.”

When Shiro greets Keith, he’s pulled toward the back edge of the floor, where there are less bodies to bump into. The song changes and Keith begins to sway to the beat, his hips in sync to the rhythm. For the first minute, all Shiro can do is watch him. But a disappointed expression, when Keith touches his waist to get him to move, clicks him into gear. He dances beside Keith, a little afraid to touch him – partly convince he’ll turn into a shower of sparkles if he does. As each new song plays, though, he puts his hands on him a little more.

By the seventh song, Keith’s neck is slicked with sweat and Shiro’s thoughts are taking nasty turns imagining what _he_ could have done to cause that. Keith turns and presses his back to Shiro, who finally gives in. He digs his fingers into Keith’s hip and pulls him closer, allowing his other hand to graze across Keith’s chest. The fabric of his shirt moves easily and Shiro bunches it up under his hand, running his palm over bare skin. Keith groans and leans into him, reaching back to touch Shiro too.

Unable to resist any longer, Shiro shifts his hand from Keith’s hip to his jaw, pulling his face to the side so he can bend down and kiss his neck freely. Keith begins to pant and Shiro drags him closer, eliminating as much space as he can. His ears begin to ring but he can still feel the beat of the music in Keith’s pulse beneath his lips. But they become unsynchronized as Keith breathes heavier, grasping at Shiro and whining something. Reality drags Shiro into the present moment just in time to hear.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

Keith takes Shiro’s hand from his chest and tows him along, nearly taking two steps at a time as he hurries up the staircase. They stop at the first room and Keith follows Shiro in, shutting the door a little too hard behind him. But that’s just one of many – he’s a little too eager, a little too excited, and a little too willing to do anything for Shiro.

He kisses Shiro, then his neck, then his chest, before he sinks to his knees and starts unbuttoning Shiro’s jeans. Keith gets them around his thighs and stops at his boxers, gazing up at Shiro. “Is this okay?”

The man nods silently, lips parted in a bit of shock.

“Do you want to sit?”

He shakes his head.

Keith drags the boxers down too and licks his lips, a sigh of content escaping him. He pushes Shiro’s shirt up. “Hold it or take it off.”

Shiro tosses it behind him.

Shifting forward, Keith wraps his lips around the tip of Shiro’s cock, eliciting a low moan from the man. He tries not to smirk as he begins to suck, taking in more of his length. Keith knows his limits, in the fact that he has none – particularly not with Shiro. He doesn’t stop until Shiro’s tip is at the edge of his throat and his nose is brushing Shiro’s skin.

Keith hums and begins to pull his head back, stopping halfway. He bobs his head a little and sucks lightly, savoring the sounds falling on his ears from above. Placing a hand on the back of Shiro’s thigh, he drags himself forward, hollowing his cheeks and pulling back abruptly to tease the man he’s pleasuring. Teasing only goes so far, so he starts a rhythm, fucking his own throat with Shiro’s cock.

Shiro has the focus of an athlete, meeting Keith’s thrusts with his own, petting back black strands of stray locks as he watches Keith intently, but he’s still human. He grabs a fistful of Keith’s hair and forces him still, the thrusting becoming all him. He teases Keith with a full throat, noticing the desperate grip on his thigh and the tears beginning to peek through. Well past five minutes, Keith’s jaw begins to ache and he whines around Shiro. It’s not the only part of him that needs relief. He palms himself and breathes slowly through his nose, attention scattered between his own needs and Shiro’s seven inches buried in his throat.

Shiro releases his grasp on Keith’s hair and Keith moves back immediately, sucking hard at the tip. Gasping, Shiro groans out Keith’s name and rocks his hips gently, shutting his eyes to the sensation. He bites his lower lip and his body shudders.

Keith pulls away too late.

Glancing down at Keith, Shiro finds his orgasm dripping down the man’s lips and chin. He blushes. “I’m so sorry.”

Smirking, Keith wipes at his face with his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it as a job well done.”

Shiro tugs up his boxers. “A job, huh? Am I that much of a chore?”

Rising to his feet, Keith kisses the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “It’s better than running errands.”

Shiro suppresses his laughter and tries to feign offense, but he fails and chooses to distract Keith from that fact by pulling off his shirt. “I like this a lot, you know.”

“Why take it off then?”

Leaning down, Shiro kisses Keith softly. “Because I like you more.” He tugs on Keith’s hand, guiding him toward the bed. “Let me show you how much.”

 

The next morning, Keith wakes to an empty Shiro side of the bed. He sighs, a little sick of this pattern. On top of the side table sits a note, something about having breakfast with a coach for a NFL team. Despite being aware that the idea of Shiro being drafted is a good thing, Keith can’t muster enough enthusiasm this early in the morning. He picks up his phone – 10:42 am. He shrugs; Allura knows he’s not a morning person. Scanning the room, he finds his shirt by the door and the leggings tossed over a chair. He slumps out from the comfort of the silk sheets to put on his clothes, partly admiring Shiro’s zeal in throwing clothes during sex, partly hating him for it. Keith sighs and opens the door, wondering if Allura is still home or out for brunch with her father. She’s gone too.

Fishing his keys from their hiding space in a cookie jar, Keith locks up the house and mounts his motorcycle. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and turns it over, enjoying the thrum of the bike coming to life. The sun, already bright and high in the sky, promises a nice afternoon, but Keith races down the highway, ready to go back to bed for another three days. Maybe a week, considering homecoming is just around the corner. Next Saturday in fact. He groans at the thought, realizing that the new routine the squad has been practicing must be perfected by then. By the time he’s done lamenting exercise and practice, he’s home.

His apartment greets him with a small potted flower on the doormat. Keith picks it up and pulls a note from its soil.

_~ Keith ~_

_Sorry for running out on you. Last night… I hope to do that again._

_I’m convinced you’re made of sweet dreams. See you at Homecoming._

_– Shiro_

Keith blushes and unlocks the door. He waters the plant and sets it on the kitchen windowsill. Undressing for a shower, he sends Shiro a thank you text, who promptly replies with a winking emoji. Keith shakes his head and sets his phone down, wondering how he got so lucky with Shiro.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the night of Homecoming is everything you've dreamed.  
> Also, the kudos and comments have me floored every week. I feel so encouraged! The fact that you like this so much just warms my heart (and has me accidentally writing three chapters in one "anti-sleep" sitting). To old and new readers alike, you guys are really wonderful.

The week drags, as they tend to do when there’s a big event at the end. By Wednesday, Keith is ready for school to be over, nevermind the fact that it’s barely October. He sighs when the clock burns 11:14 am into his vision, still four hours until his shift. Pidge has classes, Allura’s at work, and he’s all out of ideas to entertain himself.

Until his phone pings. He picks it up and smiles, heart banging inside of his chest. Shiro wants to go to lunch. Jumping out of bed, Keith dresses quickly, tripping over himself to get ready. His phone goes off again. Five minutes. Keith yanks on his boots and washes his face, barely brushing his teeth before a honk outside reminds him he’s late. He drops the toothbrush in a cup and wipes his mouth, grabbing his phone and wallet as he scurries to the door.

Keith stops short, eyes a little wide at the sight. “What happened to your car?”

Shiro pokes his head out the window and examines his truck. “Why? You don’t like it?”

Keith’s knees feel weak. “No-No… I do…” He opens the passenger door and climbs in. “It’s a bench seat…” He pets the dashboard. “This doesn’t look like a sixties truck.”

“Eighties, actually. It was in the shop getting the new seat, plus an engine and transmission.”

“Automatic now?”

Shiro laughs, “Yeah. I ground the gears so bad when I was seventeen that they practically flattened. I’ve been saving money since. Not a cheap swap.” He pats the seat. “But it’s finally done. Six long years later.”

Keith admires the paint and the nearly new interior. “Seems like it was worth it.” He buckles and strokes the bench. “You know what these kinds of seats are good for?”

Putting the truck into gear, Shiro drives the low rumbling vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway. He ignores the suggestive tone in Keith’s voice, answering him confidently, “Naps.”

Keith rolls his eyes and leans against the door, watching the road. “So where are we going?”

“You like Japanese food, yeah?”

“Seriously?”

Shiro puts a hand up in surrender. “I’m just making sure. There’s this place I know that has really amazing sushi. I had a craving for it and wanted you to come too.”

When they pull up to the restaurant, Keith hops out and crosses his arms. “So what’s special about this place?”

“The head sushi chef is my mom.”

Keith freezes. “What?”

Shiro grins and waits for him at the front of the truck, his hand out for Keith to take. “C’mon. I promise she’s great at her job.”

“Your mom.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to meet her. Now. Here?” Panic rises in Keith’s chest and he backs into the truck. “I-I don’t know…”

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” He grabs Keith’s hand and tugs him toward the door, kissing his cheek softly. “She doesn’t bite all that often.”

Staring down at their hands, Keith grumbles quietly, “Does she know?”

Shiro remains silent as they’re seated, but nods when the waitress leaves. “I came out to my parents when I was a freshman in college.”

“And they’re fine with it…?”

Pulling apart his chopsticks, Shiro frowns slightly. “Well, yeah. They just want me to be happy.” His expression softens with a smile directed at Keith. “And right now I’m very happy.”

Keith melts at that.

Nearly through with their meal, when Keith’s cheeks are full of a final salmon roll, Shiro’s mother makes her way to the table to kiss her son. It’s easy to see where he got his smile from. Keith watches them talk, his ears picking up a few sentences here and there, from what his own mother taught him of her language.

She turns and greets him in English, but he introduces himself in Japanese. Her eyes widen and she kisses Shiro on the head, calling him a good boy. When she leaves, Shiro stares at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You speak Japanese?”

“Some. I’m not fluent though. I know Korean too.”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah. She insisted. Weekends with my grandparents were basically language lessons. I’m not very good with either.”

Shiro shrugs. “Good enough to impress my mother.” He pulls his napkin off his lap, picking up the bill. “Should we get going?”

 

When Shiro pulls up to Keith’s apartment, he unbuckles and scoots closer, stealing a kiss. “Guess this is goodbye.”

Keith grins and shifts so that he’s straddling Shiro. “Are you sure?” He runs his fingers across the back of Shiro’s neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss that he moans into.

Shiro’s breath hitches and the man tugs him closer, breaking the kiss to nip at Keith’s neck. “I could probably stay a little longer…” His watch beeps and Keith grabs his wrist, groaning. “Is something wrong?”

“I have work in an hour and a half.”

Shiro shrugs. “That’s enough time.”

“I have to shower.”

“Sometimes that’s a two person job.”

Keith frowns. “Shiro…”

The man sighs, “Fine.” He releases his grip on Keith’s hips and unlocks the passenger door. “I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

Hopping out of the truck, Keith nods. “Probably at the game.” He winks. “I’ll cheer extra hard for you.”

Shiro smirks. “Don’t wear yourself out though. That’s my job.”

Face flushing, Keith resorts to waving and hurrying to his front door.

 

Up thirty-five points with four minutes left on the clock, Shiro convinces the coach to let his second string equivalent into the game for a while. Instead of going to the bench, he wanders over to the cheer squad. He approaches Keith’s box from behind and leans on the cheerleader's shoulder.

“You guys don’t look like you’re doing much work.”

Keith snorts. “Uh-huh. And what about you, oh great captain. You’re not on the field either.”

Shiro grins “Touché.” He sits down on the ground, beside Keith’s feet. “It’s weird looking at the field from here. Not playing and all.” He rests his head against Keith’s thigh. “You got water, babe?”

Insides hot at the pet name, Keith drops a Contigo bottle into Shiro’s lap without looking at him. “I guess you can drink from it normally.”

“Since my tongue has been in your mouth?”

Face heating up, Keith shushes him, “Do you really want these girls to hear you?” He glances around. “Rumors spread like wildfire with them.”

“Keith, you worry too much.” Shiro sneaks his hand up the man’s inner thigh, only to be hastily swatted away. “Maybe I just want a little preview of tonight.”

Crossing his legs and arms, Keith pokes Shiro in the shoulder with his foot. “Did it occur to you that if you try and get some now, I won’t give it to you later?”

“Ouch… You’re being stingy.”

Keith whisper yells at him, “I’m trying to keep my sex life private!”

Shiro takes a long drink from the bottle and hands it back, relenting a little. “Fine… But you should know, I don’t want to go to Allura’s tonight.”

Sitting up, Keith stares down at Shiro. “Why not?”

Picking at his gloves, Shiro shrugs. “No real reason. I just want to be with you somewhere we won’t be bothered.” He turns so that he can rest his chin on Keith’s knee. “It’s one thing to blow you for the first time in someone else’s house.” He bites his lip and runs his fingers along the back of Keith’s calf. “But it’s another to have sex. Real sex. I want that in _my_ bed.”

Keith lowers his voice, “And where is this bed located?”

“In the condo my parents bought me.”

“You sound a little spoiled.”

“It was during the market crash. They purchased the thing for under two-hundred grand. Now it’s worth over four-hundred thousand.” He grins. “My dad is very frugal with his money. He says I’m a good investment.”

Keith sets a hand on Shiro’s head, stroking back his bangs. “I’m inclined to agree with him. You haven’t been a waste of my time, yet.”

Shiro sticks his tongue out. “I resent that.”

“Careful with that thing. Someone might bite it.”

“I can only hope.”

“SHIROGANE!”

Both of them look over to see the coach walking toward them. Shiro scrambles to his feet and meets the man half way, clearly taking a reprimand. He pulls his helmet back on and runs to the field, joining his team with two minutes to spare. By the end, they’re up forty-two points. The cheer team does their winning chant and lines up to shout praises at the team as they leave the field. Shiro sneaks behind the squad, managing to grab Keith’s ass as he walks by. He gets a pom thrown at his head.

Thirty minutes later, Shiro walks out to his truck to find Keith leaning against it. He grins and wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, kissing his neck and whispering how good he looks in his uniform. He pulls away briefly. “Where’s your bike?”

“Drove it home. Lanie dropped me off on the way to Allura’s.” He chews at his lip. “You ready to go?”

 

Shiro’s condo is on the eleventh floor. It’s a square thing with lots of light and windows with stunning views of the city. His kitchen is right off the entryway, and the living room is smaller than Keith’s, but the balcony is the saving grace.

Keith stands by the kitchen island, taking in every inch of the space. “It’s nice. It’s small.” He hums happily. “I like the coziness. But where is your bedroom?”

Shiro steps forward and slides apart two opaque glass doors, revealing his room. “Everything is kind of attached. I’m grateful for the doors.” He encourages Keith to follow. “At least my room is bigger than the living space. I even have a walk in closet.” He stops by the bed, kicking his shoes underneath it and dropping his bag in the laundry hamper.

Keith mimics him, nudging his shoes just under the bed frame.

“So…” Shiro glances toward his linens closet. “I haven’t showered.”

“I haven’t either.”

“You don’t mind?”

Wrapping his arms around Shiro, Keith steps fully into his space. “We can shower after.” He lifts his chin and shuts his eyes when Shiro presses his lips to his own. He sighs happily. “I love when you do that.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Shiro laughs, “You’re very kissable.” He kisses Keith’s neck, jaw, and lips to make his point. “I could do this for hours.” He slides his hands across Keith’s ribs, grabbing the zipper on the side of his cheer uniform and dragging it down. He tugs it off and tosses it into a chair sitting in the corner of his room. “I want to kiss every inch of you.” Shiro dips his head down, kissing Keith’s clavicle and his chest.

Keith draws in a shaky breath. “You make me nervous.”

Concern paints Shiro’s face when he looks up. “Why?”

“I’ve never wanted to be with someone this badly before.”

“You don’t have to impress me.” Shiro smirks. “I’m already aware of some of your talents.” He bends down and grabs the back of Keith’s thighs, lifting him and tossing him onto the bed. Crawling over Keith, he kisses the man’s trembling lips. “You really are nervous.”

Keith forces a laugh, “Can you hear my heart pounding?”

Shiro presses his head to Keith’s chest, smiling at the drumming against his ear. “It’s loud.” He sits back on his thighs and unbuttons Keith’s trousers. “But that’s not going to stop me.”

“It better not.” He reaches forward and tugs at Shiro’s t-shirt. “Get that off.”

He strips Keith of his garments before sliding off the bed to disrobe himself. Shiro dumps everything into the hamper and grabs lube from the side table before climbing back into bed, settling between Keith’s naked thighs. “You ready for this?”

With every nerve in his body screaming, Keith fights the noise. “Yes.” He strokes himself a little, to bring himself fully erect before parting his legs further. “I want this.”

Popping open the bottle of lube, Shiro pours some onto his fingers. He spreads Keith and prods at his hole, earning a quivering gasp from the man. Sliding one finger in easily, he works it around a bit before adding the second. Keith groans at the pressure when Shiro scissors his fingers, twisting them around to loosen him up. He takes his time, bending down to kiss the insides of Keith’s thighs as he works him open.

Shiro gets to three and starts on four before Keith loses patience. He grumbles a little and pulls at Shiro’s shoulder, begging him to move on. Being good to his guest, Shiro complies, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up. He grabs the back of Keith’s knee and pushes it forward until it’s practically parallel with Keith’s chest. Shiro takes a deep breath and presses his tip to Keith’s stretched hole, moaning slightly as he inches into his tight body.

Keith gasps and drops his head back, his chest heaving. He bites his lip at the stretch, whimpering because of Shiro’s size. Shiro starts to hesitate but Keith wraps his hand around his wrist and strokes his thumb across his skin, attempting to show that he’s okay. Shiro continues, slowly. Painfully slow. Keith nearly wants him to force him open but past experiences tell him that’s not worth it, so he drops his head and groans at the pressure, soft noises following every inch that Shiro puts into him.

When Shiro’s hips hit his thighs, he sighs in relief but the relaxation is temporary. His eyes nearly roll back in his head when Shiro begins to pull out again. With half of his length inside Keith, Shiro groans and snaps his hips forward, filling Keith all at once. The man beneath him lets out a strangled cry and claws at the sheets, mouth running off expletives and Shiro’s name. Watching Keith writhe, Shiro does it again, and again, and again, heart stuttering in time to Keith’s muttering of his name.

He bends over Keith, one arm beside his head, the other gently dropping his leg. Shiro pumps his hips to his own internal rhythm, teasing Keith with hurried thrusts and slow languid ones that force airy gasps from the man’s mouth. He leans down to kiss Keith’s pretty bitten lips, red from his teeth pulling at them. Keith grasps at him, knotting his fingers into Shiro’s hair and dragging him into a deep kiss. Shiro thrusts faster. They kiss, he pants, they kiss, he moans, they kiss, and he can taste his future on Shiro’s tongue. It’s as sweet as schnapps.

Keith pulls his hips up by wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist. It hurts for a moment, but when Shiro strikes his prostate, he screams – ecstasy too much to bear. He scrapes his nails along Shiro’s back when the man pointedly thrusts there again and again and again. Keith begs him to stop but he doesn’t relent – too busy biting a hickey into Keith’s collar bone and calling him ‘babe’ to realize the havoc he’s wreaking upon Keith’s body.

Nails drag up Shiro’s back and dig into his shoulders. Keith pants wildly, his words inaudible as he trembles in Shiro’s arms. He gasps and grips tighter, throwing his head back and screaming Shiro’s name as he comes suddenly. Shiro doesn’t stop. Keith shakes, unsteady whispers of ‘Shiro, Shiro, Shiro’ falling from his lips as he grasps at the sheets. Freed from Keith’s hold, Shiro sits up, pulling Keith’s hips closer and thrusting rapidly. The man beckons Shiro to return to him, a soft whine coming from his lips. Shiro collapses forward as he comes, Keith’s name on his lips being crushed by a kiss.

Shiro hovers over Keith, kissing him softly and frequently, enjoying the sound of quiet moans between them. He brushes sweat dampened hair from Keith’s face and kisses his forehead, shifting to get off the bed. Discarding the condom, he looks back at the man on his bed, a swell of happiness overwhelming him. Shiro reaches for Keith’s hand, pulling him to the edge of the mattress. “Think we should shower now?”

Keith hums, his eyes a bit hazy, his smile certainly lazy. “Perhaps.” He looks down at the mess on his own abdomen. “I’m in worse shape than I was before.” He grins at Shiro. “You make me filthy.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro tugs on Keith’s hand. “C’mon, you tease. There’s a hot shower around the corner with our names on it.”

 

After getting pounded again, this time against the shower wall, Keith is sapped of all his energy. He shuffles after Shiro, back to his room, and shimmies under the covers. His body aches but his heart jumps when Shiro wraps his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck and whispering goodnight. He clicks off the light, and exhaustion collapses onto Keith – he’s asleep within a couple of minutes, still comfortable in Shiro’s embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for validating me as a smut writer with your comments.  
> Anyway, in regards to this chapter: Miscommunication is a bad, bad thing.

The large windows let in too much light, and Keith opens his eyes only to be blinded by the bright morning sun. He groans and rolls over, burying his head against Shiro’s chest. The man drops his hand onto Keith’s back and begins to rub circles into his shoulders.

“Sorry about the sun.” His voice is tired. “I need to get better blinds.”

Keith croaks out a passive ‘it’s okay’ and scoots a little closer to Shiro.

“I can make breakfast if you want.”

Groaning, Keith shakes his head. “Later. I don’t want to move.”

“It’s almost ten.”

“I don’t care.” He wraps his arm around Shiro’s waist, holding him in place. “I want you to stay here with me.”

Shiro leans down and kisses the top of Keith’s head. “C’mon. I can make pancakes…”

Keith glances up, his expression hopeful. “Will you go to the store for strawberry syrup?”

Laughing, Shiro nods. “Sure. I’ll go get that. I’ll buy some orange juice while I’m at it.” He pulls Keith’s hand away. “Be out of bed by the time I get home?”

Rolling onto his back, Keith stretches his limbs, groaning softly, “No promises.”

Shiro plants a sweet kiss on his lips and slides out of bed. “Twenty minutes. Out of bed.” He goes to his closet and tosses a shirt at Keith. “Wear that.”

When Shiro is gone, Keith holds the shirt up to his chest, petting the soft fabric. He nuzzles it and tugs it over his head, watching it drop to his thighs. Scoping out the room, he finally locates his boxers tucked underneath the side table. He sighs and pulls them on, wandering out to the living room to wait for Shiro.

Shiro comes home and immediately begins making the pancakes. After breakfast, the rest of their morning is spent exchanging sticky kisses and watching cartoons on Netflix. Keith settles down on the couch, his head in Shiro’s lap, his feet dangling off the edge. Shiro pets his hair and gives him a warm smile, asking what he wants to watch. Keith lets him pick, content with whatever, having already found peace in his location.

On their way to Keith’s apartment for a late lunch, Shiro gets a call from his father, insisting he come over for dinner. Shiro apologizes profusely, offering to bring Keith, but the other man knows better than to intrude on a family dinner like that. He kisses him at the door, promising that their Chinese take-out will keep him company. With that, Shiro drives off.

Keith opens the door to his dark apartment and sighs, staring down at too much food for one person. It’s just another reminder that he’ll be sleeping alone again. Suddenly not hungry, he stuffs the food in the fridge and makes his way to his room, pulling off his cheer pants and tucking them away for the next game. He tugs off Shiro’s shirt and unconsciously hugs it as he’s folding it up. Keith’s heart aches a little at being apart from him, and he scolds himself for being so attached so soon. He settles into bed, pulling his laptop over, opting to distract himself from his empty home.

 

The game on Saturday sneaks up on everyone. The cheer team decides to simplify their routine, since practice didn’t accomplish what they had hoped. Instead of many tosses, they let their flyers do some flips on the ground, knowing it’s a lot safer in the long run. Next week they’ll get it. Because of the reductions, most of the routine is arm waving, torso twists, and ass shaking. While on the field during halftime, Keith looks straight ahead, instead of at the audience, and sees Shiro grinning at him. He blames the sudden redness in his cheeks on exertion.

Shiro follows them off the field and pulls Keith to the side before he can join the girls. “You’re amazing out there.”

Keith stares down at his shoes. “I’m just doing my job.”

Brushing his fingers through Keith’s hair, Shiro bends down to look Keith in the eye. “I mean it. I love watching you do what you love.” He glances over his shoulder and sneaks a quick kiss, eliciting a surprised gasp from Keith. “So, save any of that Chinese for me?”

Keith wrinkles his nose and laughs, “It’d be really bad by now.”

Shiro laughs too and leans down to kiss Keith on the top of his head. “Alright babe, go rile the crowds.”

Keith manages a pinch of Shiro’s butt before he’s too far out in the open. “Only if you get out there to win.”

Eyes wide and mouth open, it’s Shiro’s turn to become red. “Did you just-” He shakes his head and laughs, “You know what? I’m gonna lose now.”

“Did I throw off your groove?”

Shiro tries to suppress his giggle, “No, but we’re definitely watching that movie next.” He glances toward the field. “I only do good because you believe in me, baby.” He bites his lip, a coy smile on his face. “You do believe in me, right?”

Keith blows him a kiss. “Of course.”

Shiro pretends to catch it and presses it to his cheek. “Alright then. Better get your winning cheers ready.”

The team squeaks out a win from under the noses of their opponents. With less than a minute to go, and only down three points thanks to a field goal on the visiting team’s part, Shiro cinches in a touchdown. The clock runs out before the other team even knows what hit them.

When Keith gets home, he checks his phone to see a text from Shiro: _Your kiss worked._ He shakes his head and hops in the shower so he can head to Allura’s.

 

Shiro shows up at ten minutes to midnight, immediately scanning the house to find Keith. He starts to pull out his phone when Pidge pops up beside him.

“Looking for Keith?”

He laughs, “Am I that predictable?”

“You’re a guy. Can’t be helped.”

Trying to mull that over, Shiro quits and leans against the kitchen island. “Have you seen him? It’s hard to find someone in crowds like these.”

“Allura’s room. Third floor. I was with them but she sent me down for some booze.” She holds up a bottle of amaretto and rye whiskey.

He glances at the stairs. “I’m not allowed on the third floor. Only you two are.”

Pidge pops her gum. “Want me to send him down?”

“Would you?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

Shiro sighs, “What do you want?”

“To not see your bare ass when I check the rooms again? Why don’t you take him home?”

“I did last week.”

She purses her lips. “Noted and appreciated.” She sets the alcohol down and holds out her hand. “Five bucks and I’ll get you your lay.”

Shiro blushes at the comment and stares at her hand. “Seriously?”

She beckons her fingers at him. “C’mon. You want Keith? Five bucks.”

He rolls his eyes and groans, pulling a five from his wallet. “Here.”

Pidge tucks it in her shoe and grins, grabbing the bottles. “Thank you. I’ll send him down.”

She strolls off and up the stairs, leaving Shiro to wonder if he’d even see Keith. Thankfully, it’s only a couple minutes before he’s descending the stairs, looking out into the sea of people to spot Shiro. They lock eyes and Shiro melts when Keith smiles at him.

Keith pulls Shiro to the dancefloor, working them both up into a fervor before he loses his steam. With less than six hours of sleep under his belt, Keith can’t really keep up with the energy of others on the floor. He tows Shiro along to the island of drinks and pulls out a cider for them both, hoping to catch his breath a little.

While they’re sitting in the kitchen, a familiar face approaches Keith, shocking the man a little. “Vincent? What are you doing here?”

The brunet perks up and pulls Keith into a hug. “I’m actually here hoping to see you. Haven’t been in town in a while, but heard that you’d be here.”

“How’s that?”

He shrugs. “People talk, you know.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The man turns to Shiro. “Hey, sorry. I’m Vince. Keith and I know each other from high school. You are?”

Taking the presented hand for a shake, he introduces himself. “Shiro.”

Vincent looks between them, his eyes narrowing as he analyzes the situation. “You with Keith?”

Shiro’s voice gets stuck in his throat, and he panics. “No.”

Vincent raises his eyebrows with a smile. “Oh really? That’s a relief.”

Shiro tries to cut in, “Well, it’s not exactly-”

Vincent waves a hand in Shiro’s direction. “Yeah, yeah. Never is. Can’t blame you for not dating this one. Talk is he’s a trouble maker.” Vincent laughs and wedges himself between Shiro and Keith, leaning against the island. “So, since you’re clearly available, I wanted to ask you out to dinner.”

Wind knocked out of his lungs, Keith glances at Shiro, expecting some kind of bite back at the request for a date. He doesn’t get it and so he stares at his drink, suddenly the bubbles feeling more lively than him. Keith sighs softly and raises his head, trying to wipe his face of any bitter expression as he answers the comment, “Really?”

“Yeah. We broke things off because I left for college and I don’t know…” He pauses for a moment, scanning Keith. “I’ve always felt like you were the one that got away.”

Forcing a smile, Keith responds as cheerily as he can, a little encouraged at the idea of being someone’s long lost lover. “That’s nice of you. Sure, I’ll go.”

“Great!” Vincent pulls out his phone. “Your number still the same?”

Keith nods.

“Fantastic. I’ll text you tomorrow then, okay?” He starts for the crowds. “I’m gonna see if I can find more people from high school. Catch you later.”

Staring after him, Keith lets his expression fall again. His head is swimming and he’s certain it’s trying to drown him. Too many thoughts, too many noises, too many feelings. So he just stands there, mind reeling, trying to comprehend what happened with both men.

Shiro is the first to move, practically surprised that he can in the tense air around them. He swirls his bottle around, watching the contents slosh against the side of the colored glass. “Do you want to dance?”

Keith shakes his head. “It’s too loud down here.”

He starts for the stairs without even making sure that Shiro is following him. The room at the end of the hall is the one he picks, farthest from the noise, farthest from the people. Shiro closes the door behind them.

The silence is heavy. From here, even the loud bass of the dancefloor can’t reach them. The silence is all their own. Keith can’t figure out how to break it. He turns and Shiro is right there, watching him with a concerned expression. He approaches slowly and takes the bottle from Keith setting it on the bed side table. Shiro cups Keith’s face in his hands and kisses him softly, leaving behind an ache in Keith’s chest that he didn’t think he’d ever feel.

Keith lies, “I don’t have a condom.”

Shiro reaches into his back pocket and pulls one out.

Voice flat, Keith sighs, “A miracle.”

Leaning down, Shiro kisses Keith’s neck, nibbling at the soft skin. Keith tilts his head back, allowing him access to his throat, his lips trembling as Shiro grazes his teeth along his Adam’s apple. His contact with Keith’s skin unknowingly scalds as his fingers lift Keith’s shirt.

Shiro whispers against Keith’s neck, “You okay with this?”

Keith can’t stop the lies from slipping past his tongue. “It’s fine.”

In reality, Shiro’s touch burns, and it’s all Keith can do to endure. He can’t stop it. He won’t. He doesn’t want to, but it hurts. When Shiro presses in, Keith screams, a strangled, desperate noise, but it isn’t from pain or pleasure. It’s a rush of sorrow flooding his chest. He doesn’t understand why something so intimate is leaving him empty. He digs his fingers into Shiro’s skin, pulling himself up so Shiro can’t see his face. So he can’t see the tears dripping from his lashes.

When Keith comes, he’s left breathless, wondering how something he wants so much could hurt so badly. Shiro kisses him, and Keith flinches, emotions as raw as his nerves. His hold around Keith strangles but he’s unaware of the affliction. When Keith wakes in the morning, Shiro is gone. No note – not even the leftover sense of a kiss on his cheek. He sits up, feeling lost, and he sobs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who left a comment with your reactions, thank you for the entertainment. I know the last chapter was a little mean after all the happiness and fluff at the beginning, but I do thoroughly enjoy seeing how my writing is affecting you all. You guys are a writer's dream. ♡♡
> 
> Anyhow! This chapter is accidentally twice as long so... on with the story?
> 
>  
> 
> ***this is the chapter with drunk sex/dubious consent - if that bothers you in any way, please stop at 'the half open door' and resume at 'you don't need any more'*** (ctrl F/find... should help you locate that second bit)

After rubbing his eyes clean of tears, Keith slumps from the guest bedroom toward the main floor. He finds Allura on her back deck, lounging under the misters. When he approaches, she lowers her magazine to her lap and gives him a grin.

“Did Shiro keep you up late again last night? It’s nearly eleven.”

Keith manages a weak smile in return and pulls up a chair beside her. “In a way, yeah. But it was anxiety caused by him.”

Her face brightens with surprise. “Anxiety? What happened?”

Rubbing his thumbs together, Keith lets out a long breath. “I told you about last Saturday.”

“And how it was perfect?”

“Yeah. Well I ran into an ex from high school that wanted to catch up, and it turns out that ‘perfect’ doesn’t mean shit.”

She frowns. “What happened?”

“My ex asked Shiro if we were together. Shiro said no.”

Allura’s voice pitches, “No?” She sits up and rolls the magazine. “What the hell does that mean? No.” She tosses her hands into the air and her Cosmopolitan goes flying. “You met his fucking mother! No??” Grumbling, she crosses her arms. “It’s a good thing you didn’t sleep with him then.”

Keith turns red. “Well…”

“You terrible sleaze; you did _not_.”

He sighs, “I did.”

Allura rolls her eyes. “Of course. Why didn’t you back out?”

“I don’t know…” Keith drops his head to his hands. “It’s so hard to say no to a man like Shiro.”

“Watch it, Keith. Bad things can happen if you never tell a man no. He’ll think he can get away with anything concerning you.”

Keith scoffs. “As of right now, he can.” He lifts his head and stares at the mist showering down on them. “I just don’t know what to do. Should I go on this date or should I talk to Shiro?”

Allura reaches under her seat and pulls out another magazine. “I don’t know. That’s really up to you. My guess is, if this guy is really interested in you, then you need to give it a shot. After all, Shiro has shown that he doesn’t care to be called yours.”

“That feels so harsh.”

“That’s relationships, darling.”

 

The week is a blur of anxiety and anticipation. After contemplating it for a few days, Keith accepts Vincent invitation for dinner that Friday, and it arrives sooner than he imagined. He drives to the restaurant, unprepared and a little unwilling, but it’s too late to cancel.

With two plates, and two glasses of cabernet for his date, paid for, Keith suggests they visit the night market at the park nearby. The two of them roam through the vendors, mostly admiring the products. Vincent makes an exception for a pale ale he says ‘sounds divine’. With the number of vendors they haven’t visited dwindling to a sharp zero, Keith wanders toward the fountain at the center of the park. He sits at the water’s edge, staring down at all coins – all the wishes people have made.

Vincent sits beside him, tottering a little from his third drink of the night. “I don’t remember this being here when we were in high school.”

“It wasn’t. They put it in that summer. You probably didn’t have time to see it before you moved.” He dips his hand into the water, sighing at the chilliness compared to the warm breeze of the night.

“Ya know… I meant it when I said people talk. They talk a lot. ‘Specially about you.”

Keith sits up. “What about me?”

“Mainly that you’re a whore.”

Keith’s brain begins to short circuit as he searches for an answer beyond, “Excuse me?”

Vincent laughs, nodding. “Yeah. I name dropped you at the party, to basically everyone I talked with, just to see if you had changed much in the time we’ve been apart.” He takes another sip of beer. “Turns out, you’re kind of infamous for sleeping with men. A lot of them. Dozens, it sounds like.”

Keith’s mouth goes dry. “Is that bad?”

He shrugs. “You tell me, considering you wouldn’t have sex with me when we were together, but now you fuck guys you don’t even know.” He barely pauses for a breath. “Of course it’s bad. You’re a genuine slut. No wonder hot guys like to hang around you. When did you go from being a prude to putting out on the first date?”

Face heating up, Keith stands. “I think I should go.”

“No, no, no.” Vincent grabs his wrist and drags him back down. “You’re not leaving until I get what’s owed to me.”

“Owed to you? I don’t owe you anything.”

“Hell yeah you do. You wouldn’t even suck me off on prom night but now you fool around with every gay ass you get your hands on.”

“You’re crazy.”

He tightens his grip on Keith’s wrist. “Did you really think your reputation wouldn’t precede you? I saw you last Saturday _knowing_ just what you do to men.” Vincent laughs, “All I really want is to see what I’m missing out on.”

Keith stumbles over his thoughts. “You-You took me out just so you could get laid? Everything you said was-”

“Pure shit, sweetheart.”

Ripping his hand from Vincent’s grasp, Keith jumps up, staggering away. “Fuck you.”

Vincent follows after, his beer bottle clattering to the ground as he reaches for Keith, seizing the edge of his shirt and yanking to the tune of tearing seams. He grabs Keith’s waist. “That’s the plan.”

Pushing against the man’s arms, Keith struggles. “Get off!”

“In the park? If you insist…” He reaches for Keith’s jeans but receives an elbow to the face as a result. He trips backward and lands on the ground, nursing his bloody nose.

Enraged, Keith kicks him in the groin, practically screaming, “You’re a piece of shit!”

He storms off, shaking partly from the anger and partly from fear. He arrives at his bike but can’t get the keys into the ignition, his hands are quivering too much. Taking a deep breath, Keith pulls out his phone, staring at his favorite contacts page: Shiro – no. Allura – busy. Pidge – probably high. He slips it back into his pocket and turns the engine over, letting the thrum of the motorcycle relax him instead.

 

After the game the next day, Keith makes sure to get to Allura’s as soon as possible. He arrives with wet hair and the need to talk. She’s preoccupied with setting up, but not enough to let gossip go by the wayside.

“So?” She slides half a dozen vodka bottles onto the kitchen island. “How did it go?”

Keith dumps a bag of ice in a cooler and begins situating the beer inside. “Well, it was the most interesting date I’ve ever been on.”

“That’s good, yeah?”

He laughs bitterly, “Depends on what you define as good.” Keith tousles his damp hair, shaking out residual drops of water. “To be honest, it was surprising.”

“In what way?”

“I was orally fucked over.”

She pauses, arms full of liquor. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he was relentless. He just wouldn’t quit berating me for having been with a lot of guys.” Keith throws up his arms. “And then he has the nerve to admit he wants to sleep with me? It only got worse when he got handsy.” Keith slams the cooler shut and grumbles, “I’m glad it’s over.”

Allura hums in agreement, staring down her bottles of alcohol and rearranging them repeatedly. She stands up and claps. “Well that’ll look good for two seconds. At least I tried.”

“Lura, did you even hear what I said?”

“Of course. He was being a bit of a jerk and wanted to sleep with you, big surprise.” She heads for the stairs. “You’ve never been good at dating. Said so yourself.”

Keith sighs, “She didn’t hear a damn thing.”

 

Pidge shows up fifteen minutes later and Keith joins her in the jacuzzi room. He sticks his feet in, leaving all the room to Pidge so she can float on her back in the middle. The bubbles toss her around and he watches with amusement. In typical Pidge fashion, she interrogates him about the date, laughing when he tells her he was called a slut.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“I don’t know… It’s kind of a huge understatement.” She raises a hand and flicks Keith with water. “You’re not exactly the relationship type of guy. You just have sex. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just something you do.” She sits up and paddles to the far side of the hot tub. “My guess? Sex is easier for you. You don’t have to get attached, you can just have fun.” She rubs her nose and yawns. “Maybe that’s why you’re having such a difficult time with Shiro. You’re used to men treating you as a one and done situation, but Shiro is the first guy to show an interest in who you are, not what you can do with your body.” She reaches over the edge and grabs a bottle of coke, filled partly with rum, thrusting it at Keith. “It’s up to you to figure out what that means to you.”

Keith grabs the glass and takes a drink. “Means nothing now. He said it himself, we’re not together. That’s about as clear as you can get.” He sighs and sticks a hand against one of the jets. “I might as well start over with someone else.”

Pidge takes back the bottle and shrugs. “I guess you could. But do you really want to do that? You said it yourself, he made you feel something. Why let that go to waste?”

Bitterness drips into Keith’s voice, “Because I was _wrong_ , Pidge. He doesn’t feel the same. Last Saturday he told Vincent that we weren’t together but he still fucked me. He doesn’t care. I’m just sex to him – just like every other guy I’ve been with.” Keith lets out a shaky breath and sniffs, trying to hold back tears. “I was wrong… And I don’t want to face that.”

Shrugging, Pidge knocks back the drink, coughing when coke bubbles crawl up her nose. She frowns at the bottle and chucks it across the room. “Then don’t. You don’t owe him anything.” She slumps down, going back to her floating position. “Do what you want, Kogane. Go fuck some other guy if it’ll make you feel better. Go get drunk. Who cares, as long as you’re happy, it doesn’t really matter. Yeah?”

“Yeah…” Keith gets out of the jacuzzi and starts for the door, hearing the party downstairs. “Thanks Pidge.”

She gives him a thumbs up, and he heads for the stairs.

Down in the kitchen, Keith runs into Shiro. He offers a polite greeting and holds his breath when the man asks how his date was. “Oh. That was…” He grimaces. “It was bad. We’re definitely not going out again.”

“No?” Shiro appears genuinely surprised. “Allura told me kind of the opposite.”

“You talked to her?” Keith frowns. “I told her about it, but-”

“She said you called it the most interesting date you’ve ever had.”

“I did, but-”

Shiro crosses his arms. “So what’s the truth?”

Keith struggles to come up with a dignified response. “It was kind of boring until the end. Then it went downhill fast.”

“So the sex wasn’t good?”

That stops Keith in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

Shiro examines his mojito a little too closely. “Whoring around is what you’re known for. Why _wouldn’t_ you sleep with this one?”

Stunned and upset, Keith wishes he could actually give an answer to that – one that doesn’t validate what Shiro just said. Instead, he pulls out his phone, pretending to get a text from Pidge. He steals a brand new fireball from the kitchen island and backs out of the area, high tailing it for the stairs.

Instead of making it to the third floor to bug Pidge again, Keith is stopped by Lance and Hunk. He cracks open his bottle of whiskey and takes a long drink. “What can I do for you?”

Lance grins. “I think it’s what we can do for you.” He brushes a finger along Keith’s jaw. “You look upset.” He grabs Hunk’s hand and tugs him forward. “We can make you forget about that. We can make you feel better.”

Typical apprehension is suddenly marred by the introduction of liquor into Keith’s system, and he stares at them for a moment, unable to come up with any excuse not to go with. He licks his lips. “You swear?”

Smirking, Lance nods, an arm wrapping around Keith’s waist and pulling him toward an empty bedroom. “Why would I lie to you?”

Keith sips another mouthful of fireball. “You shouldn’t.” His head swoons a little and he tries another gulp to settle his senses. It wavers them more and before he knows it, the bottle is out of his grasp and he’s face down on the bed.

He shakes his head a little, his eyes having a hard time focusing as Lance undresses him from above. Kisses are left streaking down his spine, but they make his skin crawl, as if it knows they don’t belong to Shiro. He keeps his mouth shut, barely letting moans pass his lips as Lance puts on a show for Hunk sitting in the corner.

Keith knows that none of this is for him – it’s not even for Lance, but the haziness in his head doesn’t mind. Lance has one hand on Keith’s lower back as he ruts into him, and if it’s anything like last time, the other is on his own chest, teasing Hunk into coming over to touch him. He must be, because it works. Lance’s pace slows as Hunk is introduced into the mix, but he hisses when the man tries to touch Keith. His jealousy going up like a flare.

Hunk pulls Lance off and drags him away to finish him in a corner somewhere. Keith groans and sits up to fetch his alcohol, sipping at the bottle’s contents while avoiding watching Lance get reamed by his boyfriend.

He stares at the devil on the bottle, mumbling aloud, “This what it comes to? Don’ even get fucked til the end?”

Dropping his hands between his legs, Keith stares down at the ground, oblivious to the other men in the room – when they finish and even when they leave. Everything around him rotates slowly, the furniture twisting into languid spirals the longer he looks at them; the alcohol settles heavy in his system. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when there’s a knock at the half open door.

It creaks open and Shiro sticks his head through. “Keith?”

His response is an unfocused stare, his mouth braced for words that refuse to come. Instead, he tips the half empty bottle to his lips, watching Shiro close the door behind him, blissfully forgetful that Lance left him naked and barely aroused on the bed.

The man approaches apprehensively, his face flushing as he stares at Keith’s body. “Pidge came down – said she hadn’t seen you.”

“So, how’d ya find me?” Keith’s head tilts back, weighted by the liquor. It bobs and he swings it forward to gaze at the bottle in his hands.

Shiro reaches for the alcohol, capping it and putting it on an empty table nearby. “Hunk said he and Lance left you in here.” His expression is tight. “You slept with them.”

Keith doesn’t look up. “S’what I do.” He licks his lips and leans for the table, toppling over onto the mattress. “Wan’ it back.”

“It won’t make anything better.”

Sitting up, Keith starts to slur, “Makes me forget.” His eyes droop and he falls back onto the bed. “You’re here for a reason. Why wait?” The zip of jeans is unmistakable, even to a cloudy head. Keith hiccups, “Please be rough.”

Shiro grabs his thighs and forces them back, lining up and thrusting in quickly. Keith bites his lip, breaking a sob in two. He tears at the sheets as Shiro fucks him rapidly, merciless even as Keith cries out.

“Please, please, please. Shiro…” Keith begs.

Panting, Shiro thrusts faster, dropping a hand to Keith’s hip to hold him in place. “Thought you’d be looser.”

“Lance isn’t…” Keith groans, “You’re thicker.”

That seems to please Shiro. He smirks and quickens the pace of his hips. Chest heaving, he pounds into Keith, relentless until his orgasm fills Keith’s insides. Shiro kisses Keith’s thigh before pulling out to lay down at the end of the bed to catch his breath.

Body trembling from the stimulation, Keith clambers his way to the front of the bed, grabbing his bottle of whiskey and nursing it until Shiro takes notice and snatches it away. His voice is tired, a whimpering noise is all he can muster. “Give that back.”

“You don’t need any more.”

“Please…” Keith sniffs, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “I need it to feel better.”

Shiro sighs, “That’s a terrible reason to drink. Why do you need to feel better?” He drops a hand to rest on Keith’s leg. “What’s making you upset?”

Keith’s lower lip quivers as tears begin to streak down his reddening face. He pulls his knees to his chest and drops his head on his arms. “I thought you loved me.”

Breath catching in his lungs, Shiro stares at Keith for a moment, unmoving and entirely unsure. He scoots closer and brushes away tears with the pad of his thumb, hushing Keith into a silent drunken stupor. “Lie down okay?” Shiro stands and pulls a blanket across Keith’s body, before sitting on the bed side table and beginning to sing softly.

Keith smiles drowsily and buries his face in a pillow, his voice muffled, “I know this lullaby.”

Shiro grins, the expression not quite wiping the sadness from his face, and keeps singing the few verses of the song. When Keith has fallen asleep, Shiro bends over him, planting a kiss on his forehead with a quiet whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Sitting up, Keith’s head swoons and he slowly lowers himself back to the bed. He gingerly inspects his surroundings, surprised when he recognizes them as his own apartment. Everything is as he left it the night before, save a steaming cup of mint tea on a TV dinner tray a few feet away. He frowns at it and tries to stand, his balance shaken from his drinking the night before. Keith glances around, looking for evidence of anyone else in his home. His only proof is the fact that he’s wearing boxers.

One step at a time, Keith wanders out to the living room, surprised to find the television on and Shiro asleep on the couch. He smirks, more than a little amused at the fact that the man before him is too big for his furniture and has multiple limbs hanging off the edges. Keith leans against the back of the couch and stares down at Shiro, who hasn’t yet started snoring.

“How’d you get me home?”

Shiro groans and opens one eye. “You’re up.” He turns the TV off and shifts so that he’s sitting properly. “How’s the hangover?”

“Mild headache. Now my question.”

“Allura helped get your bike into the truck. I loaded you in by myself.” Shiro yawns, “She wanted us out because her dad was coming over for brunch.”

“Sounds about right.” Keith starts for the kitchen, opening the fridge door to inspect its contents. “Why’d you stay?”

Shiro stands, shuffling over to the box of donuts he bought earlier. “Two reasons. Didn’t want you choking on any potential vomit.”

Keith grimaces.

“And we need to talk.”

Slowly shutting the door, Keith twists around to face Shiro, skin pallid from nerves. “What about?”

Dropping a half-eaten apple fritter to an awaiting napkin, Shiro tries to look less grim than he feels. “Yesterday.”

Keith sighs, “A lot happened.”

“Yeah. What do you remember?”

Keith takes a deep breath. “I remember telling Allura about my date, even though she wasn’t listening. I remember hanging out with Pidge and getting her advice on what happened.” Keith rubs his tongue across the front of his teeth, bracing himself. “I remember what you said about sleeping with Vincent.” His confidence wavers further. “I remember wanting to go back to Pidge, drinking a lot, and sleeping with Lance.” His ears heat up. “I remember drinking until I couldn’t see straight, but I don’t remember much after that.”

Shiro freezes. “You don’t remember anything after Hunk and Lance?”

Keith shakes his head. “No. Not after they were gone. Why?”

Face reddening, Shiro exhales slowly, running a tense hand through his hair. “I-um-we-” His pulse quickens and his skin prickles with the threat of a nervous sweat. “We had sex.” He falters, “Uhh… Unprotected sex.”

All color draining from his being, Keith lets out a breathless, “What?” He covers his face with a hand, rubbing at his temples. “I don’t even remember…” His eyes shoot up to scan Shiro’s expression. “Was I even conscious? Did I even want it?”

Taken aback, Shiro feels the sting of Keith’s words. “Of course you were. I wouldn’t have- I couldn’t have- I-” His breathing grows shallow as he stumbles back against the couch, leaning against the armrest for support. “Keith… I’d never-”

Rushing forward, Keith cradles Shiro’s face in his hands, trying to meet his far off gaze. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you’d hurt me.”

“No.” Shiro wraps his hands around Keith’s wrists, pulling them down gently. “I just- I panicked. Thinking that what I did wasn’t actually what you would have wanted.” He wrinkles his nose, staving off the emotion in his voice. “If I had known you were _that_ drunk… I never would have touched you.” He turns Keith’s hands over, kissing his palms. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking right last night. I was a mess and I let it cloud my judgement.”

Keith steps between Shiro’s legs and hugs him, resting his cheek against the crown of his head. “Can we just agree that we both did stupid things last night?” He slumps to the ground and sighs, “That’s definitely the last time I’m taking Pidge’s advice to ‘drink and do what makes me happy’.”

“What did you think made you happy?”

“Sex?” Keith shrugs. “It’s weird because it used to satisfy me but with Lance yesterday? I just felt sick.”

Shiro reaches down, pressing a hand to Keith’s forehead and humming. “Nope. No fever.”

Keith swats him away. “Not that kind of sick. He kissed me and I felt- I felt disgusted. I was glad when it was over. Relieved, even.” He rises to his feet. “Speaking of. I’m going to take a boiling hot shower and scrub my skin until it burns.”

“I’ll get going then.”

“Are we done talking?”

“It’s fine. Nothing that can’t wait until later.” He offers a brief smile. “You’ve dealt with enough.”

A melancholy drip pulses through Keith’s veins, and he reaches for Shiro’s hand. “If you have nowhere to be, I’d like you to stay.”

Shiro’s smile brightens. “Yeah?”

Keith tugs him along to his room. “You can wait here if you like.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “Or?”

“Or you wash my back. For, you know. Solidarity.”

“Solidarity.” Shiro laughs, “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“We can talk about that later. For now,” Keith picks a towel off his door. “the shower calls.”

 

With Shiro panting next to him, Keith attempts to slow his heart rate by breathing deeply. His mind wanders to the headboard, wondering if it left dents in his wall. The hickey on his neck smarts and he hums happily, satisfaction flowing over him as he glances at Shiro, the flush on his cheeks and chest already beginning to fade. Keith shifts so that his face rests on Shiro’s shoulder.

“You look like you’re deep in thought.”

“Just counting regrets in my head.”

Keith frowns. “That’s not fun.”

“I’m sorry for lashing out last night. What I said about your sex life was uncalled for. I was just frustrated. Not with you, but with myself and a lot of other things. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I was an ass.”

“I lashed out at your lashing out by proving you right.” Keith flattens his face to the mattress. “We’ve already agreed we were both stupid yesterday.”

Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head. “I know. I’m-” He presses his lips into a line, thinking. “I’m procrastinating.”

“What could you possibly be putting off?”

Sitting up, Shiro pulls a blanket over his legs and tugs on Keith’s arm to get him to sit up too. “Last night, you said something that I can’t get out of my head.”

Suddenly wary, Keith folds his hands in his lap. “What was it?”

“You were crying and said: ‘I thought you loved me’.”

The weight of the room shifts and the silence is tangible.

Keith sucks in a sharp breath, “Shit.” He spins around, starting to get out of bed, but Shiro’s hand on his arm stops him.

His voice is earnest. “What did I do to make you think I didn’t love you?”

Keith answers quietly, “We had the most amazing night and the next week you told my ex we weren’t together.” He glances at Shiro. “How else was I supposed to take that?”

“I should have said something. I freaked. I tried to take it back but then you agreed to go on the date. I didn’t know what to think.”

“So this is my fault now.”

“Keith, that’s not what I said.”

“What do you even want, Shiro?” Keith shakes his head. “Because I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t know, I’m done.”

Shiro grips the sheets, a somber expression taking over his face. “I don’t want that.”

Rubbing his palms together, Keith spits out the question he’s been waiting for. “Do you love me?”

The expression on Shiro's face is pained. “No.”

A soft gasp leaves Keith’s lips as he feverishly blinks away tears suddenly trying to blur his vision. He takes a deep breath, decidedly ignoring the tremble in his lower lip. “So I’m just sex to you.”

Shiro keeps his silence.

“Get out.”

“Keith…”

He raises his voice, “I said, get out.” Keith stands and throws a wad of Shiro’s clothes at him. “Take your shit and get out of my house. I don’t-”  A sob threatens his voice.

Shiro approaches him beside the bed, reaching for Keith’s face. “Please, let me just-”

Keith smacks his hand away, painfully aware of the tears spilling down his cheeks. “Leave! You got what you came for! There’s nothing else here for you.” He shoves against Shiro’s chest, pushing him toward the front door. “Get out! Get out, get out, get out!” Voice rattled, Keith nearly chokes on his words, “I don’t want to see you anymore.” His chest heaves with a sob, “Don’t come back here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a lot to swallow, but next chapter is Shiro centric, so try not to hate him too much after this?? I promise it'll explain a lot. If it helps, I welcome and encourage venting in the comment section.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can see that many of you had a fun time with the last update. Your reactions were wonderfully welcome - thank you guys for being honest. I'm sorry that some of you probably hate Shiro right now, but hopefully this will make things better/clear?  
> Please let me know if it does.

Halfway home, Shiro pulls off the road, parking his truck in a nearly deserted shopping center. Hands trembling, he opens the door, slamming it shut the second his feet hit the asphalt. He grips the side of the bed and shakes the frame, screaming at nothing and everything. “IS IT WORTH THIS!” Letting out a scream, he drives his foot into the tires, kicking until his toes are numb. Dropping his head to his hands, he lets the emotion pent up in his chest rip out with one hard cry. Wiping away tear after dripping tear, Shiro shakes his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

With every last built up tension shaken out on his truck, Shiro climbs back in the cab. He rests his head on the steering wheel with a sigh, feeling hollow and miserable. Attempting to refocus himself, he sighs, “Remember what dad said. Sometimes we only get one shot at greatness in our lives.” He sniffs and wipes the last of his tears from his face before turning the engine over. Taking a deep breath, Shiro nods. “This is my chance to be great. I have to take it.”

 

The clanking of a serving spoon against one of his mother’s favorite bowls joins the noise in Shiro’s head. He hardly realizes that she’s shoveling more vegetables onto his plate and muttering something as she does.

Tuesday night dinner with his parents. Normally he’s happier to see them, but the joy of his arrival was sapped the second his father began to talk about his progress with scouts and coaches of teams he’s met with. Shiro sighs internally. He doesn’t want to think about his future.

The older Shirogane lights up, face animated as he rambles about what kind of teams he could play for – he’s hoping for a team with a good record. He pats his son on the arm. “I’m so proud of you. I knew if we put you in football you would go far.”

Shiro offers a weak smile, eyes drawing toward his plate brimming with food. His stomach growls but the hunger can’t penetrate the fog in his brain to send the right signal. He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of meat, scooting it back and forth between the sauce and the side dishes. “It sure is exciting.”

Noting the dreariness in his voice, his mother attempts to liven up the conversation with a new topic. “So how is Keith?”

Shiro drops his fork, avoiding her discerning stare. He swallows the lump in his throat, unable to make his words sound like anything but small, “I don’t know… I ended things with him.”

The disappointment is evident. “Why would you do that?”

Glancing up, Shiro regrets his decision. His mother’s expression is sad and disheartened. He clears his throat. “The coach told me if I want to make it into the NFL, I have to.” He bites his lip, suppressing is own disappointment. “No team wants the publicity of a gay football player. Certainly not a rookie. He says I have to have a clean slate. Until I’m signed and under contract, I can’t be in a relationship. It’ll jeopardize my chances.”

“How long have you known?”

“He told me on Thursday, after practice. I stopped seeing Keith on Sunday.”

She brightens up. “So it’s not too late. You can get him back!”

Shiro manages a sad smile. “Mama… no. After what I did…” He grows silent, emotion rising in his throat. “He deserves better than me.”

“Lies. Honey, tell our son he must mend things with Keith.”

Looking up from his half empty plate, Shiro’s father frowns. “I won’t encourage him. He has a real chance at greatness here. He’s worked so hard for this! Why would he let some boy get in the way?”

Her tone becomes stern as she levels her stare at her husband. “Because of love. It is a simple choice.”

“He’s known him three months. He’s been in football since he was seven!”

“Look at him, he’s miserable without Keith.”

“He’ll be miserable in a dead end job if he doesn’t get drafted-”

Shiro’s heart stutters with the oncoming threat of a panic attack. He stands up abruptly. “I have to go.” He scoots his chair in, kissing both parents on the cheek before grabbing his keys and tossing an ‘I love you’ over his shoulder.

Sliding into his truck, Shiro contemplates going over to Keith’s but his nerves are raw as it is – and he doesn’t want a confrontation. Instead, he buys ice cream on the way home, hoping that the sweetness could be a momentary substitute.

 

Unfortunately, the longer he mulls over talking to Keith, the more anxious he gets about it. By Wednesday evening, Shiro is frozen on the wall, unwilling to tip either way. He goes to the football field to run laps and clear his head. Halfway through his second lap, struck down by panic, he begins jogging toward the exit, hoping not to be seen by the cheer team.

“Shiro? SHIRO!” A familiar looking girl bounds toward him, blond curls bouncing with her pace. “Shiro!” She catches up to him, breathless and holding up a hand. “Oh I hate running.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She hesitates, “Well, no.”

He waits for her to breathe normally. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m Lanie, a friend of Keith’s? From the cheer team?” She stands up straight. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s not here?”

She shakes her head. “No. And he’s never late to practice. I haven’t seen his bike or him all week. He hasn’t answered my texts either.” She lowers her stare to the poms in one hand. “I’m worried about him. This isn’t normal…”

Shiro pales. “Have you checked up on him? Gone to his apartment?”

“I don’t know where he lives…”

“I can give you the address.” He takes her phone and punches the info into her maps app. “If he doesn’t answer, he has a little ceramic cat to the right of his door. There’s a key taped underneath it.”

Lanie stares at the address. “You won’t go?”

“I-I’ve upset him enough. I don’t want to make it worse by barging into his house before I’ve apologized.” He sighs, “Please make sure he’s alright. Please.”

She nods. “I can do that.”

He thanks her, and she leaves, hustling back to her squad. Shiro kicks himself for not giving her his number, so that he wouldn’t have to wait until Saturday to see if Keith was alright.

 

The next game night, Shiro finds himself confronted by a wake-up call. Keith is there, cheering, but Shiro can see the dark circles under his eyes from his spot on the bench. Something is taking a toll on him. At one point, he locks eyes with Keith, who drops his immediately, looking away. He knows the act is self-preserving by the way he tightens his arms across his chest, but Shiro can’t help but feel the sting of the action – Keith wants nothing to do with him. That fact in of itself hurts more than he’d realized.

Courage bolstered by a lead of twenty-one points, Shiro grabs Keith’s wrist when he passes the bench after leaving the field post-performance. “I need to talk to you.”

Keith’s eyes are dull as he scan’s Shiro’s form, his words are terse, “Why?”

“I need to apologize.”

He seems tired. “For?”

“Lying to you. It wasn’t right. I need to come clean.”

Sighing, Keith stares him down before nodding. “I need to go to the locker room. I guess you can follow.”

Shiro trails behind in silence, hoping they’ll have enough time to talk. Keith unlocks a door and slips inside, lighting up the locker room with the flip of a switch. He heads straight for his own space and Shiro waits beside him patiently.

“So? Talk.”

“Oh. You don’t have to finish whatever you-”

Keith’s tone becomes sharp, “Shiro, I’m giving you one chance to talk. Say your piece.”

Flustered, Shiro scrambles for the right words. “I’m sorry for misrepresenting my intentions with you.”

Brows furrowed, Keith looks at him. “What?”

“I lied. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just told you the whole story and why I was acting that way. I didn’t-I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Keith’s forehead creases as he frowns. “Are you apologizing for not being honest about using me?”

“No! That’s not it.”

He turns red. “So you’re _not_ sorry about using me as your personal fuck toy?”

“Shit, no.” Shiro digs his palms into his eyes, his volume loud enough to echo in the empty locker room, “I’m sorry for not telling you I loved you!”

Keith’s poms fall out of his hands. “You what?”

Shiro stares up at him, chest aching and eyes rubbed red. “I love you.” He sighs, “I love you so much.” He lets out a bitter laugh, “I thought it’d be easier to break it off than to explain what kind of shit I’m in.” He lowers his eyes to his hands. “But all that did was make things miserable.”

Sinking to his knees, Keith takes ahold of Shiro’s hand and brushes back his bangs to see his face. “What made you think I wouldn’t understand?”

Shiro rests a hand on Keith’s cheek. “It wasn’t you. There were just so many inputs that week. I was upset, angry, jealous, frustrated, so many, many things. And you had your date. I thought maybe we could have one last night together. One last time before you became his and I did what I was told to.” His voice softens, “One last time to feel like I had a say in who I was with and what I did with my life. So I took it. I slept with you and then, like the jackass I was being, I made you feel like that’s all I ever wanted.”

Keith’s question is nearly silent. “Was it?”

Leaning forward, Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Never. I adore you, baby. You make me happier than I’ve been in a really long time.”

Keith smiles and opens his mouth to say something when Lanie sticks her head down the aisle. “Hey guys? There’s less than two minutes left for half-time. We should probably head out there.”

Shiro stands and pulls Keith up, collecting his poms and handing them over. “Would you mind coming over to my place and talking?” They head back to the floor of the stadium and, with Keith distracted, Shiro nudges him to get him back in the conversation. “We could get pizza.”

Immediately looking up, Keith nods. “I’m good with that.” He hesitates, “I’m not going to sleep with you though.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Shiro backs up toward the sideline. “I broke your trust. I get that.” He smirks. “But you can sleep _next_ to me.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “It depends on how shitty your situation is. Gotta pass the misery test to get me to stay over.”

“You make a guy want to be devastated.”

 

With pizza served and the two of them seated on the couch, Shiro opens the conversation with a question of pure curiosity. “What happened with practice on Wednesday?”

Keith pauses mid-bite. “You mean with missing it?”

“Yeah.”

“I was drunk.” He sets his food down, staring at the plate’s raised pattern. “I had been drinking since you left… Lanie was, surprised, to say the least. She tells me I talked about you being a jerk. She threw away the rest of my booze.” He tears at the crust. “I’m glad she did. I wasn’t coping very well.”

“You wouldn’t have to cope if I had done the right thing in the first place.”

“And what would that be.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and launches into his story about meeting NFL coaches and scouts, as well as what is being expected from him from every fatherly figure in his life.

Keith stops him at the end of his tale. “Wait, so you’re being expected to closet yourself in order to even get a shot at this?”

“My chances are high. Scouts like me, the coaches I’ve met do too. Most everyone is impressed with my record. Coach says that the NFL team a few cities away is looking for a local golden boy to be their rookie of the year for next season. He thinks it could be me.”

“If you’re single and pretending to be straight.”

He sighs, “Yeah.”

“Is this even what you want?”

Dropping his plate to the coffee table, Shiro slumps back on the couch. “I don’t know. The starting salary is 450 thousand a year. That’s difficult to ignore.”

Keith stacks his dish on Shiro’s and scoots forward, closing the gap between them. “It’ll be exhausting. Dozens of games, championships to win, the super bowl? And how long will you be able to do it?”

“Twelve to fifteen years, maybe seventeen? That’s with no injuries though.”

Groaning, Keith hides his face in Shiro’s neck. “I hate the idea of watching you get hurt out there.”

Shiro smiles. “Is that insinuating you’d stay with me?”

Keith nips at the skin beneath his ear. “What if it is?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. The thought just makes me happy. You turn my insides into butterflies.”

Shifting so that he’s sitting in Shiro’s lap, Keith grins. “You’re so cheesy.”

Shiro bites his lip. “Are you serious though? You’d stay my boyfriend even though I’d be in the closet? Because it’s not going to be easy. The media is rough and athletes are always under scrutiny and I don’t want to force you into that if you don’t want to handle something so-”

Keith kisses Shiro, cutting him off. “You’re ranting.” He wraps his hand around Shiro’s. “I’d love to be your boyfriend.” He drops his head to lean on Shiro’s chest. “No matter what.”

“Then it’s settled.” Shiro lifts their hands to kiss Keith’s. “I love my boyfriend.”

Blushing, Keith beams. “I love my boyfriend too.”

 

Stretching, Keith wakes up with an ache in his back reminding him of his broken promise. He quietly slides out of bed, beginning the search for his tossed clothing. The trail leads to the kitchen. Tugging his pants on, he stares at the whipped cream canister, wondering if it’s still good after sitting out all night. Opening the fridge, Keith snatches a piece of pizza from a Ziploc bag and stuffs it into his mouth, meandering over to the couch to watch something.

Shiro wakes up a few minutes later, emerging from his room with a shuffle. He laughs and bends over to kiss the corner of Keith’s greasy mouth. “You’ve been my boyfriend for a little over twelve hours and you’re already this comfortable in my house.”

Keith tilts his head back, grinning. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I can call you that in bed, too, you know.”

“Do you find eating cold pizza on your couch offensive?”

“I do when you sneak out of bed before I get to smother you with my spooning.”

Dropping the half eaten pizza to the plates from the night before, Keith walks around the couch. “Since your room has a strict no clothes policy,” he leans against Shiro, hooking a thumb into his own waistband and pulling. “you want to get me out of these?”

Squinting at Keith, Shiro hums. “No… You’re a mess.” He picks up a stray napkin and wipes at Keith’s face. “So filthy. And this won’t cut it.” Bending down, Shiro grabs both of Keith’s knees, hauling him up and over his shoulder. “We have to wash all of you to get that off.”

Screeching, Keith whacks at Shiro’s back. “Put me down! Shiro! Down! Put me down!”

Shiro laughs and swings him a little. “I can’t hear you from back there.”

Keith smacks Shiro’s ass. “I mean it! Put me down!” He tugs at Shiro’s boxers. “I just ate pizza you jerk!”

Ignoring the woes from below, Shiro marches to the bathroom and into the shower.

“You’re gonna drown me if you turn that faucet on.” Keith whimpers, “Shiro, please.”

Unnecessarily kneading Keith’s ass as he lowers him, Shiro is greeted with a dual handed smack to his bare chest when his boyfriend is back on two feet. He grins. “Don’t like surprises?”

“You’re a worse tease than I ever-”

Shiro silences him with a kiss. “You going to take those pants off? Or do I have to do-” The chime of a ringing phone draws his attention away from the shower. “Wait for me.”

With Shiro running toward his room, disobedient as ever, Keith follows. He leans against the bedroom door, listening to Shiro’s conversation. He watches as the man grips his own hair, tugging at it with a grimace as whoever is on the other line talks his ear off.

Keith stays silent as Shiro hurries into his closet. When he appears with a button down, Keith moves to sit on the bed. “What was that about?”

“Remember me telling you about the team who wants a local golden boy?”

“Yeah…”

“Well that was their scout. He wants to meet with me.”

“When?”

Shiro groans, “Thirty minutes.” He tugs on slacks and blindly reaches for his brush. “I don’t smell bad, do I?”

Keith wanders out of the room and returns with a bottle of cologne from the bathroom. “You smell like two different men.” He presents it to Shiro who douses himself in the spray.

“Too much?”

In between sneezes, Keith manages to tell him to leave the truck’s windows open.

When they get to the parking garage, Shiro kisses Keith goodbye and promises to take him on a date after cheer practice. Keith nods and waves him off, a dazed smile on his face as he watches Shiro drive away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had hoped for weekly updates since my lack of schooling, but I was terrible and started another story last week instead of updating this one. I was feeling angsty and started a doozy of a tale, rather than writing for the impending fluff that this story has coming up. And then it got worse when the week after I wrote smut instead. Basically, I got bad writer's block on this fic and had to write something else to loosen up the gears. It worked!
> 
> But my tardiness aside, they're finally together! Officially! What could possibly go wrong!
> 
> Kidding. I'm kidding. Maybe.

Allura’s surprise catches Keith off guard. “He said ‘I love you’ and you forgave him? Just like that?”

“W-Well, yeah.”

“No. You do not get to do that. I trusted him once and look where that got us.” She grumbles, “I should have never let him take you home that night. It could have been a disaster.”

Keith sighs, “It’s fine, Allura. Everything has been worked out. And he didn’t mean what he said.”

She crosses her arms. “Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah. If not, I’m gonna punch his pretty face.”

“I don’t know… With all that you said is going on? Do you really want to be with a guy that could be drafted onto any team in the nation? If he has multiple scouts looking at him, he could end up on the east coast of all things.” Her face falls. “Would you be willing to leave your life here, everyone you know and love, just for him?”

Keith’s heart aches at her tone and implication. He doesn’t meet her eye. “I would. I love him, Allura.”

She offers a melancholy smile. “I suppose I can forgive him. But I won’t if he takes you away from me. Tell him that he can’t sign with a team more than two states away.”

Happy with the acceptance, Keith grins. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

 

Keith flops to the grass with a thump and lays back, breathing deeply to catch his breath after a perfect run of the squad’s routine. He can hear Lanie praising the team a few feet away, vowing that Saturday will be their best performance yet. There’s the rustling of poms as the girls gather their gear, with most linger to gossip or discuss plans for dinner. Lanie approaches and stands over Keith, shielding his face from the sun. She begins to mention a rumor she heard from her brother about the football team but her words are cut short when she becomes distracted by something in the distance.

Frowning, Keith pokes her foot. “What is it?”

Lanie glances around the field, making note of who’s left from practice. “Casey has a boyfriend, Veronica is gay, maybe it’s Jess? No, she likes scrawny guys. It has to be Alex.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She stares down at him. “I’m trying to figure out who Shiro’s here for.”

“Shiro?” Keith perks up, nearly dragging Lanie down as he gets to his feet.

“Don’t tell me he’s here for you.”

Ignoring her comment, Keith greets Shiro with a hug. Shiro, ineffectively trying to be subtle, grabs Keith’s ass and kisses his neck. “Hey, baby.”

Keith pulls away with a blazing red face to see Lanie standing with her arms crossed, eyebrow quirked at them.

She takes a few steps forward. “You know, my brother mentioned that he thinks a football player is dating one of the cheerleaders, despite it being generally off limits during the season.” Lanie tilts her head to look up at Shiro. “Would _you_ happen to know any football players dating a cheerleader?”

He gives her an unabashed grin. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Shifting her gaze to Keith, she hums. “I’m sure you don’t.” She pokes Keith’s shoulder. “We’re talking later.” And with that, she grabs her bag and saunters off the field.

Keith shakes his head and drops it to Shiro’s chest. “She’s on to you. You have to work on being discreet if you want to keep this a secret until a team has signed you.”

Shiro groans, “But that’s no fun at all.” He threads both hands through Keith’s hair and tugs his head back so the shorter man is looking at him. “I like being overly affectionate with you.” He kisses Keith on the nose. “It makes me extremely happy.”

“You’ll be happier when you can do that while we’re living in a penthouse off of your wages from NFL games.”

“Would you still love me if I didn’t get signed?”

Keith smirks. “I’d love you even if we lived in a shack.”

Brazenly kissing Keith on the mouth, Shiro releases him from his grasp. “I’ll keep you to that.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith snatches up his duffle bag and hurries to match Shiro’s stride. “So why are you here?”

“I promised you a date, didn’t I?”

Keith glances down at his current state of being. “I’m sweaty and in my cheer uniform.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect?” Keith frowns momentarily. “Perfect for what? Getting laid in your truck?”

Shiro stops in the middle of the parking lot. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Keith groans and grabs Shiro’s arm, towing him along. “You’re awful. Seriously though, what are we doing?”

“To be honest, I just wanted to surprise you. Our date isn’t until eight o’clock.”

“That’s two hours away.” He shifts his stuff across his back and pulls his keys from a pocket. “Does that mean I have enough time to go home and get ready?”

Shiro steals a kiss and turns in the direction of his truck. “Be ready by eight!”

 

With a towel sitting dangerously loose around his hips, Keith brushes his teeth a quarter til eight. He spits and wipes his mouth, freezing when he sees Shiro standing at his kitchen island, popping a Hershey kiss into his mouth.

“Are you abusing my spare key?”

Shiro smirks and balls the foil up, tossing it at Keith’s head. “You’re not dressed.”

“It’s-” he glances at the clock, “7:48. I have twelve minutes.”

“Did you just get out of the shower?” Shiro scans Keith’s figure and hums. “You’re wet.”

Keith sighs, “If you don’t want to be kicked out, sit on the couch and don’t say a word til I’m dressed.” Shiro approaches him for a hug and Keith puts his hand on his chest, shoving him away. “I mean it.” He points to the couch. “Sit. Silent.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro does as he’s told, bouncing his knee all the while Keith is changing into something decent for a public outing.

When Keith passes on the way to the front door, he holds out his hand for Shiro to take, dragging him along to the truck. “So what exactly do you have planned?”

“It’s all in the back.”

Keith peeks over the edge, frowning. “I see a cooler, some lanterns, is that a bag with blankets? Oh don’t tell me we’re going night fishing. I wore my good pants.”

Shiro laughs, “Do I look like the type of person who enjoys fishing?”

Hesitating, Keith climbs into the passenger’s side of the truck. “No…”

“Correct. Any other way off base guesses?”

“Now that you’ve injured my pride? No.”

“Oh come on.” Shiro grins, nudging Keith. “Not even one tiny guess?”

“Sporting event?”

“You don’t like those. I’m not going to plan our first date around something one of us dislikes. I planned it on something you’ve talked a lot about. I probably have too. But you have to wait.”

 

Across town, just outside of the city, lie rolling hills, some of which, are perfect for doing absolutely nothing on. Shiro chooses one, the tallest one, with the flattest top, and lays out an enormous blanket, pinning it down with the lanterns. He kicks off his shoes and invites Keith to do the same, before sitting down and opening the cooler.

“I wasn’t exactly sure what you’d want, but I brought what sounded good: white wine – pre opened –, disassembled turkey sandwiches, carrots, salt and vinegar chips, two cokes, a box of sushi from my mom’s place, one water bottle, sunomono, red grapes, and chocolate covered strawberries that cost a fortune.”

“Our first date is a picnic?”

“Is that too kitschy?”

Keith leans over the food to kiss Shiro. “Not at all.”

Shiro digs out silverware and smiles. “I figured we could stargaze after and just talk.”

Hand already in the bag of grapes, Keith nods. “I like the sound of that.”

 

With the food picked over, and all the drinks consumed, Shiro piles the stuff back into its container before laying down and tugging a blanket over he and Keith. For a while, they quietly point out constellations, whispering names and admiring their complexities. It doesn’t take long before Shiro grows sentimental.

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“I know things have been kind of crazy in my life lately, but I’m grateful you’re around.”

Sighing happily, Keith scoots closer to Shiro, laying his head on his shoulder. “I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“What do you really want out of life?”

Shiro laughs lightly, “That’s a loaded question.”

“I mean it. I want to know.”

“To be honest, I used to know exactly what I wanted. And now?” He shrugs. “Now that something seems so much less important.”

“Was it football?”

“Yeah.”

Keith turns so he’s on his stomach, head on Shiro’s chest. “So what do you want now? Instead of that?”

“Normalcy. I want to live a life where I’m not entertainment for a living. Suddenly a nine to five doesn’t sound so bad if it means I get to be exactly who I want.”

“And who is that?”

Shiro twirls a finger in Keith’s hair. “Yours.”

Heat rushes to Keith’s cheeks, but it can’t be seen in the dim lighting, so he wraps his arms around Shiro’s torso, tugging him closer. “That sounds nice. But why wouldn’t you be mine in the NFL?”

“I don’t know… I could be. It’s just, you see stuff on the news about players never seeing their families and whatnot. What if we have kids? There’s a Christmas game every year. One on Thanksgiving too.”

“You think about having kids with me?”

It’s Shiro’s turn to blush. “Well, yeah.”

Keith kisses at Shiro’s jaw. “Whatever the case, we’ll make it work. _Especially_ with kids.”

Shiro turns his face down to kiss Keith on the lips. “Thanks.” He kisses him again and grins. “Wanna mess around?”

“Under the stars?”

“Of course.”

Keith laughs, “Think they’ll tell?”

Shiro sits up, peeling off his shirt. “I’m willing to risk it.”

 

Despite the October chill in the air, everyone on the field is sweating. The team faces a tough opponent and with nervousness in the stands, the squad has to work even harder to get school moral up and running. Keith feels like he’s going to pass out. He’s been through two water bottles already, and the clock barely clicked over to half time. They mill out onto the field to complete their performance with already weary bodies. When it’s done, they dump themselves into their spots, blatantly ignoring each other and the fans.

Staring down Shiro, Keith wishes he could will the man over to him, but the captain is preoccupied talking to the coach about something. It seems important, but he thinks coaches blow their team issues out of proportion. He laughs to himself about the thought and sighs, praying for a quick end to the game.

The scoreboard clock harasses them – never seeming to move as fast as it should. Keith swears his eyes glaze over when the ref adds fifteen seconds to two minutes left in the third quarter. He sighs heavily and Lanie, two spots away, suddenly laughs at his reaction. He raises an eyebrow but she doesn’t respond. She pulls the squad to their feet, dragging them through a cheer, before declaring that she’s breaking protocol and getting nachos. Three other girls follow her.

Keith leans back, eyes drooping, and begins to nod off. The raucous noise of the brass section in the marching band yanks him back to reality when their team makes another touchdown, putting them a few measly points ahead. He picks up a pom and yells ‘ _go team_ ’. The coach gives him a sour look.

By the time the girls get back, the fourth quarter has barely started – continuing the snail’s pace of the third. The four cheerleaders pass a giant plate of nachos back and forth, licking thumbs and yawning at the game. Keith’s stomach grumbles but Shiro promised burgers before Allura’s. He still snatches a jalapeño slice.

Every few minutes, he glances at the plate of nachos longingly, heart sinking as it gets smaller and smaller. He should have stolen a chip. He sighs and looks beyond the girls, wondering if the mascot was out and about at a game this tedious. Instead, he sees a man in the corner of the field, clearly where he’s not supposed to be. He’s pacing near the exit and the fact that he’s there at all piques Keith’s interest.

Lanie stands, empty tray in hand, and hurries off to a trash can. A shiver crawls up Keith’s spine as she gets close to the guy he can’t identify, but she dumps her garbage and begins the trek back. He sighs, comforted, but the relief only lasts for a moment. The man suddenly breaks from a lean against the wall and begins following her at a fast pace. Keith’s blood chills. His face comes into view when he grabs a fistful of Lanie’s hair. Keith stands abruptly at the sound of her screech and doesn’t think, he just bolts in her direction.

He comes to a grinding halt in front of them, insides trembling but there nevertheless. Keith holds his hands out, gesturing to himself. “I’m the one you want, yeah? Let her go.”

A pause, and Jensen obeys.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is going to be pretty short because I split it between this posting and one that I'll put up on Thursday. I know season 3 comes out on Friday, so I don't really want to interfere with that.
> 
> You might be wondering: why post two parts? Well, I know I left that last update on a cliffhanger, so... I'm not making you wait that long to find out what happens.

Wide eyes full of fear, Lanie runs. She doesn’t stop to thank Keith or even argue against his decision, she just runs toward the team. Grateful for her sense, Keith returns his gaze to Jensen, wondering how bad of an idea it was to face him alone. When Jensen grabs the front of his cheer uniform, he questions why he didn’t scream for security.

But it’s a little too late for thoughts like that.

Keith is knocked off guard when Jensen lands his fist on the side of his face. Stumbling out of the man’s grasp, Keith swings with all his strength. The rage in Jensen's eyes when he realizes he has a bloody nose tells Keith the daring move wasn’t worth it. He tries to make a break for it, but Jensen is fast. A fist buries into Keith’s hair and slams his head into a concrete wall of the stadium, alternating with sharp jabs to his ribs and a dozen foul comments about Keith and his character. Not that harsh words hurt compared to being pummeled into a wall. After three faceplants into the infrastructure, Keith’s vision begins to blur – partially from the blunt force trauma and partially from the blood dripping into his line of sight.

Keith isn’t sure how he ended up on his back with Jensen's knee in his sternum, but the ache all over suggests it wasn’t fun. Fun has fled. Keith coughs and sputters up blood when Jensen wheels his fist back for another connection with Keith’s jaw. The nerves in Keith's neck prickle when his head jerks to the side with the force of being hit. Somewhere in the back of his mind he worries about permanent damage; Jensen's sailing fist brings him back to the situation at hand. He wheezes when Jensen shifts his weight forward, knee pressing against a lung, and coughs again, blood dribbling down his chin. Keith tries to sit up, attempting to shove Jensen off to preserve his organs. It’s no use, though – the guy weighs a hundred pounds more than him. He’s not going to budge. Keith’s mind races as he scrambles for a way out of this mess, but comes to a full stop when a familiar hand fits around his throat. Panic paints his face as he scrapes his nails against rough skin, doing no damage to deter the man. With his airway restricted, Keith's body goes into survival mode. He kicks and tries to scream, scratching and pleading for his life. His assailant has no mercy or thought toward relenting.

Senses warbled by a slew of attacks, Keith misses the rallying cry of Lanie to the current set of benchwarmers. There’s a flurry of footsteps and the hefty pressure on his chest vanishes with a swarm of players, but he can’t appreciate the liberation. A sharp pain pricks at Keith’s forehead as his eyes grow heavy. They flutter shut as an ache strikes though his head, causing his brain to throb. His skull feels ready to split in two. The ringing in his ears peaks before wavering with his consciousness and the shouts of another nearby.

“No! No, no, this can't be happening. Keith!”

An arm slides beneath his neck, and he feels like he’s being cradled, but it’s too much for him to open his eyes. He groans softly when a soothing thumb brushes across his bruised cheek.

The voice is quiet, but unmistakable. “Keith, baby can you hear me?” The chest he’s pressed against trembles with a shuddering breath. “Keith…”

Every bit of him wants to answer Shiro, but every bit of him aches. His head hurts and reality seems fleeting. He can’t remember how to breathe anymore. His limbs don’t work and his mouth won’t move; he’s fading. The sounds around him drown out, crackling into static, into nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually have something important or witty to say. Today, I just present this to you as it is. There's some smut and there's a little tension; take from it what you will. As always, I love and appreciate every one of my readers. You guys make this whole thing worth while. I'd insert a kissing emoji if I could.

“Shirogane.”

Keith, barely regaining consciousness, breathes slowly and keeps his eyes shut, trying to appear as if he’s still asleep. He hears the scooting of a chair close by and footsteps.

Shiro answers, “Coach.”

“I came by to pick up your equipment. You know you’re not supposed to leave without returning your gear.”

“I’m sorry. I panicked. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hell yeah you weren’t.” The coach groans, “The scout you met with Sunday? He was at that game. He _saw_ you leave.”

“Shit.” Shiro hesitates. “I had no idea. It’s just, I had to do something.”

“He would have been fine if you played the rest of the game.”

“Respectfully, sir, you don’t know that. He was wheezing on the way over here. It sounded like he couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t risk-”

“Shirogane.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m going to make this as clear as I possibly can. If you _ever_ choose him over football again, I will personally out you to every scout interested in drafting you.”

Keith bites his tongue, pissed on Shiro’s behalf.

“You know about that?”

“I make it my business to know what types of men are on my team. Do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear, coach.”

“Good.”

After a few silent moments and the slamming of a door, Keith opens his eyes, spotting Shiro in the chair beside his bed, head in his hands. Keith does his best to sit up, reaching over to touch Shiro on the knee. His voice is gravelly, “Are you okay?”

A smile splits onto Shiro’s face as he looks up. “Keith. You’re awake.” He stands and kisses Keith on the forehead, actively avoiding the stitches on the right side. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He brushes his thumb down Keith’s purpling cheek. “You had me so worried.”

“Worried enough to leave the game?”

Shiro’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You heard that?”

“Mhmm.” Keith pulls Shiro’s hand up to his face, kissing his palm. “Why would you do something like that? You know how important these final few games are.”

“I couldn’t just act like I didn’t know what happened to you. I’ve been worried sick; it would have been worse if I actually played. Plus there were like five minutes left – they manage fine without me.”

“The team must have won because the coach would have come down on you harder if not. It was a huge risk you took.”

Shiro sighs, “Keith, I _love_ you. I wasn’t going to leave you bleeding on the grass while I scored a winning touchdown.”

Attempting to suppress his smile, Keith feigns a scolding. “I thought you knew what your priorities are.”

Shiro kisses the flat of Keith’s fingers. “I do.”

Avoiding the tears of happiness pricking at his eyes, Keith changes the subject. “So what happened to Jensen? How’d he get out anyway?”

“Bail – which he violated the rules of when he came to the game. But security arrived and he put up a fight. They tased him before I left.”

“Damn. Wish I could have seen that.”

“I’m sure it’ll be up on the internet at some point.”

Keith sighs, “So do you know when I can leave?”

“They haven’t said yet, but nothing is broken and you’ve been stitched up where necessary.” He shrugs. “I think they’re still waiting on your MRI.”

“Can’t be that much damage if I’m awake, right?”

“Let’s hope so.”

 

After confirming that Keith didn’t sustain any permanent brain damage, aside from potential dizziness and confusion for a few days, the nurse discharges him.

Silent, Shiro lets Keith into his truck before climbing in and turning the engine over without a word.

“Something’s bugging you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Keith scoots over, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I know you. You’re never this quiet. What’s wrong?”

Shiro puts the truck in gear. “Buckle up. Do you want to get lunch somewhere?”

“Shiro.”

“Or I can just drop you off if you want.”

“ _Shiro._ ”

“Give it a rest, Keith. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Keith pulls his hand back, moving into his seat. “Alright. I won’t pry. But if you want to talk-”

Shiro’s tone is sharp, “ _Keith_. Just, please. I need a break.”

Feeling small, Keith turns his gaze to his hands. “From me?”

His expression softens immediately. “No! Not at all. I need a break from life.” Shiro leans over and presses a kiss to Keith’s cheek. “How easily can you ditch your Tuesday classes and Wednesday practice?”

Keith laughs, “Very, considering half the school saw me get pulverized.”

“Good. I have an idea.”

 

Hovering over Keith, Shiro watches him pack up his belongings. “You remembered the sun screen right?”

Keith pulls out a zip lock bag with two bottles. “See them? I’m putting them back in the duffle…” He slowly lowers them, nodding at Shiro all the while.

“I’m just checking. I don’t know about you, but I burn easily.”

Without responding, Keith pulls his phone up, reading from a list, “You have the toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“Snacks?”

“Check.”

“Bathing suits?”

“Yeah.”

“Cell phone chargers?”

“Yep.”

“Two changes of clothes?”

“Of course.”

“Condoms?”

“Y-” Shiro stops. “I knew I forgot something.” He runs off, rummaging through Keith’s bed side table. He comes back with a zippered bag. “Ten is plenty, yeah?”

Keith’s eyebrows nearly touch his hair line. “Shiro, we’re staying for two nights.”

“So it isn’t enough?”

Rolling his eyes, Keith sighs, “Give them here.” He jams them in his bag and zips it up. “I think we’re all set.”

The two of them toss their belongings in the back of Shiro’s truck and hit the highway. While rummaging through a bag of Chex Mix, Keith puts his feet up on the dash. “So when was the last time you went to the beach?”

Shiro glances over and swats at his ankles, forcing him to put his feet back down. “I think it was the summer before my senior year. I went with a friend when his brother got sick. He didn’t want to go alone.”

Keith packs up the snacks and stuffs them in the glove box. “Was he a friend or a _friend_?”

Shiro smirks. “Keith, are you wondering if I slept with him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“Well, the answer is no. His brother was the one I hooked up with.”

“Pity it wasn’t him on that trip.”

“Not really.”

Toeing off his shoes, Keith looks up. “What do you mean?”

“His brother had a thing for me and wanted me to go to his college.”

“Where was that?”

“Maryland.”

Keith pales. “That’s on the other side of the country.”

Shiro hums, “I would have never met you.”

Keith's heart stutters in his chest at the thought. “I don’t know what I’d be doing if we hadn’t met.”

“Probably some drunk stranger.”

Smacking Shiro’s arm, Keith leans back to cross his own. “I resent that.”

Shiro snickers, “Am I wrong?”

Groaning, Keith gives up. “No…” He stares out the passenger window with a sigh. “How much longer are we going to be on the road?”

“We left a half hour ago. At least an hour more.”

 

It’s just past one when they make it to the motel. Shiro promised it had good reviews. The two star rating doesn’t thrill Keith too much. With one bed, a bathroom half the size of his own, and a kitchenette that he could only fit one foot into, Keith wonders what could possibly make this room worse. He sinks to the bed and immediately falls over, floundering to get up.

“What the hell is that thing?”

Shiro presses his hand against it and laughs, “A water bed!”

“We can’t have sex on _that_.”

“Sure we can.”

“I’ll get seasick.”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don’t unpack. I’ll see what I can do.”

He comes back with positive news. For twenty bucks more, they get a real bed, a bigger bathroom, and a roomier ‘kitchen’.

Keith takes in the decorations. “It’s blue and pink. All of it. Blue and pink fish.”

Shiro stares at the drapes matching the bed spread. “So it is…”

“This… is something.”

Placing his hand over Keith’s mouth, Shiro drags him to the bed. “No more complaining. We’ve already switched rooms.” He picks up his suit case and drops both it and Keith onto the mattress. “Do you want to hit the beach now or later?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What? Seriously?” Shiro shakes his head. “We drive fifty plus miles just so we don’t go to the beach. C’mon Keith.”

Laying back, Keith shuts his eyes. “How about we just relax today? Tomorrow we can go to the beach, explore shops, try and fail to avoid a sunburn, anything you want. Today, I just want to spend time with you and,” he rubs the comforter, “this awful print.”

Shiro purses his lips. “Well, if we’re going to do that, I’m heading to the shop in the lobby.”

“What for?”

“Lube.”

Keith sighs, “Is that the one thing we forgot?”

 

By the time Shiro returns, Keith is asleep, much to his disappointment. He pulls back the covers and picks Keith up, tucking him in before grabbing the remote for the TV and exploring the ten channels available. He settles on the Spanish rendition of Spiderman 3.

It isn’t long before Keith is up from his cat nap. He rubs his eyes and sends a confused look in Shiro's direction, regarding what's playing on the television. Shiro clicks it off in response.

He stands. “You ready for fun now that you’ve rested a little?”

Keith smirks, nodding and beckoning Shiro to stand between his knees. “I hope you mean the kind of fun that doesn’t involve leaving the room.”

Laughing, Shiro plants a kiss on Keith's lips. “I do.” He reaches down and tugs on one of Keith’s thighs, hooking his leg over his waist. He dips Keith back onto the bed and kisses his neck. “Is this what you were hoping for?”

Keith bites his lip and nods.

Shiro settles over Keith and pushes up his shirt, nipping at Keith's bare skin as he ruts up against his hips. Tossing his head back, Keith begins to moan, but a pointed thrust against his body forces the air in his lungs to seize. He winces and recoils from Shiro, pushing him away out of reflex.

“Keith? Are you okay?”

Voice pained, Keith nods. “I think my ribs are more sensitive than I had anticipated.” He pouts, suddenly upset, “I guess we shouldn’t do this if it’s just going to make my injuries worse.”

“Or, you could _top_.” Shiro’s cheeks flush. “If- if you wanted, that is.”

Eyes widening, Keith sits up on an elbow. “You’d let me?”

“Well, yeah. Of course.”

“I thought you-”

“I usually prefer one way but sometimes I like the other, okay?”

“Definitely.”

Shiro steps back, allowing Keith to get off the bed. He kisses his boyfriend sweetly. “Look, it’s been a while, so be gentle?”

Smiling, Keith agrees, “Anything for you.”

 

With extra patience and grace, Keith fingers Shiro open. He makes sure to pepper kisses and hickeys across Shiro’s thighs, watching the man beneath him bite his lip and moan. Relishing in the lustful gaze that Shiro has settled on him, Keith pulls himself up to the mattress, planting a hand underneath Shiro’s knee and hoisting it up.

“Your leg is heavy.”

“Is that your way of sweet talking me? I run for a living, what did you expect?”

Keith grins and ignores the questions, pulling Shiro’s hips forward. “I’m so excited.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow at Keith’s arousal. “Really? You could have-”

The smirk melts off Shiro’s face and is replaced by knitted eyebrows and an open mouth, caused by Keith pressing in slowly. He sucks in a sharp breath and exhales with a groan, his head falling back on an arm. Keith swears he heard a ‘whoa’.

Rolling his hips, Keith thrusts in carefully, setting a languid pace. The ache to speed up and take Shiro rough and raw sinks into Keith’s bones. He lets out a groan and his hips hitch, jerking a little faster than before. He licks his lips, enthralled by the sight of Shiro’s chest rising and falling rapidly in response to what he’s doing. Shiro drops a hand to his mouth, stifling a moan as Keith shifts again, rutting into him faster, grazing the spot that makes his heart stop.

Keith reaches forward and drags Shiro’s hand away. “If you want to keep quiet, it’s gotta be with kisses.”

Shiro buries a hand in Keith’s hair and tugs him down, biting his lower lip before sliding his tongue into the other’s mouth. Keith moans and inadvertently thrusts harder. The grip on his hair tightens. Shiro breaks away with a gasp but Keith isn’t done; he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of Shiro’s neck, gnawing purple and red hickies into existence. He plants kisses across Shiro’s clavicle and down his chest before sitting up and quickening his pace.

Anchoring himself into place, Shiro grabs the back of Keith’s thigh. He watches Keith, lost in adoration and desire, captivated by the huffs of pleasure each thrust is eliciting. When Keith thrusts deeper, Shiro’s senses spike, his breath catching in a wheeze. He digs his fingers into Keith’s leg, whispering his name.

Face contorting, Keith pulls out suddenly, face flushed as he discards the condom and presses himself against Shiro’s erection, gripping both of them and thrusting into his own hand. Shiro groans louder when Keith reaches down to finger him, wrist moving in time with his hips. It doesn’t take much before Shiro comes, praising Keith and panting his name. Keith trembles through his orgasm, planting a hand on Shiro’s chest for support. He withdraws from Shiro, staggering a few steps over to collapse on the bed.

The two of them are silent for a while; Shiro reintroduces noise.

“Wow.”

Keith laughs, “Don’t fluff my ego.”

Shiro sits up on his side. “I mean it.” He kisses along Keith’s jaw. “You’re so good.”

Playfully shoving Shiro away, Keith hums. “Do you think if we order from that Thai restaurant we passed on the way here, we can finish showering before it arrives?”

 

At noon, Shiro nearly has to drag Keith out of bed kicking and screaming. He keeps muttering about going back to sleep as Shiro slathers sunblock on his bare skin.

“We didn’t drive all this way just to sleep.”

Luckily for them, the coast is just a block outside the motel doors. Halfway down the shore, Shiro stakes an umbrella in the ground, laying out a giant towel beneath it. Keith immediately curls up on top of it.

Shiro sighs, “Don’t tell me you’re going to just sit there.”

“I’m not awake yet. I could drown.”

Unable to tell if he’s kidding behind his sunglasses, Shiro pulls off his shirt, tossing it at his stubborn boyfriend. “Fine. I’ll go enjoy the ocean by myself.”

Keith stares after Shiro guilt settling in the further he gets. With a groan, he scrambles to his feet and poorly jogs through the divots in the sand.

Clearly satisfied and grinning, Shiro greets him with a splash of salt water and a laugh.

 

By the time they become fatigued, Shiro is rubbing at Keith’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I missed a spot.”

“A spot?” Keith frowns. “What does that mean?”

Shiro grimaces. “I forgot to put sun screen on your nose. It’s bright red.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“It might later.”

Sure enough, Shiro proves right again, regrettably so when he gets smacked by a flinching Keith after trying to kiss him. He leaves to buy aloe from the convenience store down the street.

 

By morning, Keith’s nose has dulled to pink and he’s in a better mood. Shiro instantly notices and pulls him onto his lap, kissing at his neck and freckled shoulders while they watch old cartoons on a grainy channel. Keith leans into the embrace, sighing happily at the affection.

When it comes time to go, Keith finds it difficult to leave. It means going back to reality, and the idea leaves him weary.

Shiro promptly picks up on his deflating disposition. “We’ll come back again. I’ll save up more money and we can stay longer next time. Maybe even go to a theme park.”

Keith dumps their bags in the truck and tugs Shiro to him by the edge of his shirt. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s torso and sighs, head resting on his chest. “I don’t really care what we do. I just want to be with you.”

Pressing his lips to the crown of Keith’s head, Shiro agrees to the thought with a hum.

 

Back home, Keith drops his bag in the laundry and himself on his bed. Shiro climbs over him with a smirk and a sentence on his tongue. He starts to speak but is cut off by a phone ringing in the other room.

Keith cranes his neck, looking out the door toward the source of the noise. “Is that your cell?”

Confused, Shiro gets to his feet. “I guess it is. But I don’t know who would be calling right now. I told everyone important that I was on vacation until tomorrow.”

Waving him off, Keith lays his head back. “Might as well answer it.”

Shiro steals a kiss before hurrying to the living room. Keith absentmindedly listens to the conversation, curiosity piquing when Shiro’s tone changes after the first few seconds. Voice brighter than before, Shiro doesn’t talk much beyond a few mentions of ‘yes’, ‘thank you’, and ‘of course’. The list of potential callers spins through Keith’s head, though pinpointing one is impossible.

When Shiro returns, Keith sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed. “So what was that about?”

Combing his fingers through Keith’s hair, Shiro tilts his head back so that their eyes meet. “That was the scout for the local team.” He shakes his head. “They-they want to sign me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal is to be done with this by the end of August. School officially starts for me next week and unfortunately that severely affects my writing turnout. I have a slew of ideas that may or may not make first chapters on here. I should just make a poll of story prompts and have you guys vote on what you want to see next.
> 
> Anyhow, one more chapter guys. It's been a good time, for me at least. I hope you guys have liked the story thus far - your constant support via kudos and comments make me believe so. Honestly it's going to be hard to let this one go. I really fell in love with it, but I'm not one to beat a story senseless. You know what they say, if you love something - let it go - so that's what I'm doing, rather than dragging it out til we all hate it.
> 
> Deep breath - second to the last chapter!

Keith jaw clicks open, voice struggling to form a deserving response. Instead, he pulls Shiro down for a soft kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Frowning, Keith tugs Shiro’s hand from his hair and brings it to his lips. “You’re going to take it, aren’t you?” He brushes his thumb along Shiro’s rough palm. “This is what you want. This is _exactly_ what you want – the local team? You won’t have to move away from your family and friends this way.”

Sitting beside Keith, Shiro drags him onto his lap, holding him close and burying his face in his chest. “I don’t know anymore. It’s what I wanted, but I didn’t think it was going to actually happen. It was more like a dream.” He lifts his face, pressing brief kisses to Keith’s clavicle. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I meet them to sign and they laugh in my face because I was stupid enough to believe that I was right for this job? What if-”

Keith places both hands on Shiro’s face, rubbing at his temples. “Calm down. You can’t think like that. You get yourself so worked up, you’ll never make a decision.” He scrapes his nails along Shiro’s neck. “Look at me. You of all people know how incredible this opportunity is. _Especially_ for a man like you.” Keith grins. “Imagine being the first Asian man to be MVP. You’re already breaking boundaries. Why not a few more?”

Shiro’s breath is shaking as he inhales. “I don’t know if I can do that. I’m not perfect.”

“You don’t have to be. Just be yourself. You’ve worked so hard for this, Shiro. You of all people deserve this. The scouts have spoken and they think you’re worthy – if you can’t trust me, trust them.”

“I do trust you.”

“Then listen to me. We’ll go tell your parents and then you can schedule a time to meet and sign with the team.”

 

The Shirogane household surprises Keith with its silence. Shiro’s mother sits in the den, still in her work uniform, with a magazine in her face while her husband scrubs at a stubborn surface stain on the kitchen counter. From the way he’s frowning, Keith is certain it’s not going away. Shiro hangs his jacket and kicks off his shoes, stepping around the immediate kitchen table in an attempt to surprise his unsuspecting mom. Keith mirrors his actions but stays by the door, unwilling to interrupt Shiro in his comfort zone, opting to pick at his cuticles to preoccupy himself. A shriek and a thwack call his attention.

Shiro laughs, hands up as he’s hit repeatedly with a rolled up magazine, being berated in Japanese by his panicked mother. It’s hard for Keith to not feel warm at the sight of Shiro being so effortlessly joyful. Shiro pulls his mom in for a hug, rocking her and muttering what Keith assumes to be a lighthearted apology. He sits beside her and begins talking, pointing at Keith halfway through a sentence. She waves Keith over, tugging Shiro to the side so he’s forced to make room for his boyfriend.

Keith nestles under Shiro’s arm, distracted enough that his head isn’t translating a single word. He absentmindedly wonders if Shiro’s father is hard of hearing, considering the noise and his lack of interaction. Tossing a glance toward the kitchen, he sees the man rummaging through the fridge, finally understanding his level of awareness.

Mrs. Shirogane calls her husband in. He lights up at the sight of his son, asking why the sudden visit.

Keith can feel the nervous energy radiating off of Shiro, but it doesn’t stop him from telling his biggest supporters his good news.

His father begins clapping at the sound of ‘offering a contract’, nearly bringing himself to tears. “I told you! I told you it would happen! You are meant for greatness! My boy, living our dreams.”

Shiro’s smile falters as he nods. “It’s exciting. I’ve never been so happy and anxious in my entire life.”

“What’s to be anxious about? You have nothing to fear. Sign the contract,” he tosses his hands up, “– instant satisfaction. I promise.”

Forcing a chuckle, Shiro’s tone drops. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.” His father grabs his arm, yanking him off the couch. “Do not delay! Call them and sign. We’ll celebrate later.”

Ushered out of the house, Shiro waves goodbye to his family before taking Keith’s hand and leading him back to the truck. “Well that was shorter than I expected.”

“Don’t think too much of it. He’s just excited for you. It’s understandable after all these years of training.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Shiro plucks his phone from his pocket and opens the contacts page. “Here we go, ready to seal my fate.”

 

Cracking open a bottle of apple schnapps and cinnamon whiskey, Keith pours a couple of iced drinks. He settles down beside Pidge, handing her the extra glass before shifting their freshly delivered food toward them.

“So tell me again why I’m at your house instead of Shiro?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re one of my best friends, Pidge. Can’t I spend time with you?”

A raised eyebrow is her response.

He sighs, “Shiro’s signing his contract right now. Told me we’d celebrate by getting drunk at Allura’s tomorrow.”

Pidge slides a slice of pizza from its box. “So I’m the distraction.”

Lifting a controller, Keith shrugs. “I bought food and have provided video games. You’re a distraction that’s treated well.”

She laughs, “I’ll take it.”

When the food is gone, they get to gaming, friendship levels depleting to a cold zero as they attempt to beat each other out of every round. An hour and a handful of minutes pass before the two of them are torn from their virtual blunders. A flurry of texts does the job.

Keith picks his phone up, heart thumping against his chest when he spots Shiro as the sender. He’s half expecting pictures of his officially employed boyfriend. Pidge excuses herself to the kitchen for a drink while he opens the messages, disappointed by letters instead of media.

**_Shiro, 8:37PM:_ ** _I’ve just finished meeting with the executives behind the contracts. The coach was very eager to sign me. Said he liked my style._

**_Shiro, 8:37PM:_ ** _But there’s a bit of a hitch in the plans. I’ll text you later with the info. Contract isn’t done yet._

**_Shiro, 8:39PM:_ ** _Actually nevermind. It’s not fair. Not to you, not to me. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t really have a choice in the matter._

**_Shiro, 8:41PM:_ ** _I’m so sorry Keith. You deserve better than this. Always have._

Keith drops his gaming controller to the couch, grasping the phone with both hands as the texts continue to pop up on screen.

**_Shiro, 8:42PM:_ ** _I swear this is what’s best. I know you might not think so right now, but I’ll explain more at Allura’s. You just have to trust me._

Confused, Keith scrolls through the messages, searching for what Shiro could possibly be apologizing for, when a delayed message lights up his screen.

**_Shiro, 8:40PM:_ ** _I’m ending things between us._

Keith sits up straight, having not realized he was hunched over the device. He lets it fade to black, eyes glazed over as the pounding in his chest fades to a hollow ache.

Pidge approaches at the cease of alert chirps. “Was that Shiro?”

Without looking at her, Keith hands the phone over. She unlocks it and pours over the message, letting out a surprised huff at the end. “He won’t tell you why?”

Keith’s tone is as lifeless as he feels. “Not til tomorrow.”

“What an ass.” She plops down beside him, hugging his shoulders. “We’ll get Allura to punch him. She’s got a mean swing.”

Shoving Pidge away, Keith shakes his head. “It won’t matter.” He stands, handing his controller over. “You can finish if you want. I’m going to bed.”

 

After feigning a pulled muscle, Keith skips out on the game, wishing he cared about the disappointment of his teammates. He shows up at Allura’s early and crawls into her jacuzzi with a bottle of liquors – part vodka, part rum, a shot of tequila, and leftover pink lemonade from Allura’s brunch with her uncle – it’s kind of disgusting, probably slightly rancid, but at this point he doesn’t really care. The temperature of the hot tub is nearly boiling. Keith wonders if he’s sweating from the booze or the scorching water.

Allura walks in thirty minutes after the party has started. “Last one of the season. You sure you don’t want to dance the night away?” She tugs the alcohol out of his hand. “I don’t want you regretting this.”

Keith sighs, his eyes heavy and his heart just as weighted. He isn’t drunk enough to forget his burdens. Sloshing out of the hot tub, he reaches for a towel. “Just for you, Lura. Okay?”

She smiles softly, pained sympathy written all over her face, and grabs his clothes. “Thank you.”

Downstairs, the music pulses through dozens of bodies. Keith joins them on the dancefloor, body stiff from stress. It takes a few songs before he’s loose and feeling the vibe of the night. Everyone is celebrating the final game of the season, content to be a part of something larger – even if it is just football. He tries to celebrate too, every beat pushing out the melancholy chewing at the back of his brain.

When the alcohol begins to leech out of his system, Keith shimmies his way out of the cluster of people. He pours himself a shot and knocks it back before snatching a hard cider from the fridge. Turning a heel, Keith wheels straight into Shiro’s chest. He stumbles back, stomach pitching when he realizes who’s in front of him. The hope in Shiro’s voice doesn’t escape Keith’s attention.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” Shiro grabs his elbow. “C’mon, we need to talk.”

Keith jerks away. “I think you said enough yesterday.”

“I told you I was going to explain.”

Snorting, Keith rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a bullshit excuse from you, Shiro. Just leave me alone.”

Shiro’s expression falls, but he steps in front of Keith, blocking the way to the dance floor. “It’s only fair that I tell you why. Just come upstairs with me so I can-”

“So you can fuck me and abandon me like you do every time?”

A chill spikes up Shiro’s spine and settles in his set jaw. His voice cracks, “Fine.” He moves out of Keith’s way. “If that’s the way you see me.”

Taking a long drink from his bottle, Keith avoids Shiro’s gaze. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, “Don’t delude yourself into thinking you ever loved me. I know you never did.” He shoves past Shiro, heading back to the mob of dancers.

 

It’s well past one before the crowd begins to thin. Keith trades dancing for a game of drinking darts with Pidge. She’s kicking his ass with two bullseyes of tequila. He’s missed the board more than that. When he finally lands the dart in the center, their attention is drawn to the door by a soft knocking. Pidge skips over and pulls it open, surprised to see Shiro standing there.

“Uhh, Keith? Did you order a side of ex-boyfriend with your party depression?”

He pours the shot for her, voice plain, “Nope.”

She shrugs in Shiro’s direction. “Looks like you’re not invited in. Sorry, pal.”

“Pidge, please. I know he doesn’t want to talk to me, but this is important.”

She stands her ground. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t care.” She waves Shiro off. “You’re not welcome here anymore.” Spying his quiver lip, Pidge shakes her head. “No, no. None of that crying nonsense. You broke up with _him_ remember? You don’t get to have a pity party about being single. Shoo.”

Keith sighs, “Pidge? Just, give us five minutes.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? A weepy lip and just like that?” Putting her hands up, Pidge scoots past Shiro. “Fine, but I’ll be back in exactly five minutes. No hanky panky for you two.” She points a damning finger. “I _know_ you Keith.”

Shiro shuts the door behind him and lingers by it, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “I should probably skip past the formalities. Just tell you why I’ve made this decision.”

Keith sits on a couch and folds his hands. “Some blunt honesty would be nice for once. Pidge is serious about the five minutes. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro drags an ottoman up to Keith, planting himself in front of the man. “Coach outed me. Told the scout about our relationship. Surprisingly, they still want me to play for them – under one of two conditions.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his roots. “I either end things with you or-” Shiro tugs a rolled up stack of papers from his pocket. “or we both sign an agreement and I get a beard for two years, but am allowed to maintain our relationship.”

Keith grabs the papers, scanning them quickly. “Are you serious? They want you to have a beard? It’s just a fucking sport!”

“It’s a multimillion dollar business to them.” He sighs, “Do you see why we should end things? Putting you through this?” Shiro rubs at his temples. “You deserve better than this shit show, Keith. Better than me.” He sniffs and blinks away a few errant tears. “I’ve always known that. I can’t drag you down this road. It’s just not fair.”

Decidedly ignoring Shiro’s comments, Keith wonders aloud, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

Shiro smiles but it doesn’t reach the sadness in his eyes. “Of course I did.”

Reaching for the hand on Shiro’s knee, Keith brushes his thumb over Shiro’s knuckles. “Then don’t quit on me now. A fake relationship will hardly matter if you still come home to me.”

“What about press? Interviews? Any time I’m expected to talk about my loved ones, it’ll be her. If I’m making you suffer? I can’t break your heart like that.”

Keith laughs, dismal. “It won’t be worse than this.” He reaches up and wicks away a tear. “Please, Shiro.” Tugging Shiro’s hand into his lap, he scoots to the edge of the couch, inches away from joy or misery. “You told me you loved me. You _promised_ you meant it. So prove it. I know you think this is for the best but it isn’t. I love you. And I don’t want this to end.” Keith bites at his quivering lip. “Trust me for once. Don’t overthink it. You talked about a future with me and I want that. Shiro, I want that so badly, but if you don’t let me sign those papers it’ll never happen.” He hooks his finger under Shiro’s tear dampened chin, pulling his face up to meet his own. “Now or never, Shiro. What’ll it be?”


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! I hope you have enjoyed the ride, I certainly have. It's been a great honor writing for you all, and I look forward to doing it again.
> 
> Speaking of, I actually did make a poll: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/2W7KFNL
> 
> Use that link to vote on which type of story you'd like to see next from me. Optional of course, but I do love feedback. :)

Pidge grumbles, glancing over the back of the couch at Keith in the kitchen. “Can you stop making margaritas for one second? It’s kickoff!”

Keith shakes his head, not caring if she’s still looking. “Not a chance. You know it makes me upset seeing him play. I don’t know why you’re so insistent on watching the super bowl anyway. You don’t like sports.”

“It’s _Shiro_. You don’t think it’s damn impressive that it’s only his second year with this team and they’ve already made it to the final championship? Cause you should be clicking your heels and dancing in the streets. This is fucking incredible.”

Turning on the blender, Keith shouts, “Huh, what did you say?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the screen, giving him the finger. He laughs and watches the ingredients whirl together, sighing deeply as he sends a prayer to the heavens in regards to Shiro’s team winning. With the mix done, he dumps the slosh of alcohol, ice, and juice into cups before serving Pidge.

“So I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Allura got tickets. Why the hell aren’t you there?”

Keith props his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m not allowed to be, remember? I told you about that shitty contract and everything.” He waggles his fingers, mimicking quotation marks. “No attending games until designated time is completed, blah blah blah.” He drops his head to the back of the couch. “I know I can attend next season, it’s just-” he sighs, “I wish I could be supporting him _now_. It makes me sick knowing all I can do is watch the games from home, and I barely do that.”

“Seriously?” Pidge snorts, “That’s so lame.”

“It’s more lame when you consider I stopped watching after he got injured on the field and I cried for an hour until I got him on the phone.”

Grimacing, Pidge glances at the TV. “Maybe we shouldn’t be watching then…”

Keith snatches the remote away. “Not a chance, I’m already invested. Plus I like those beer commercials with the dog.”

 

At half time, Pidge disappears into the guest room, leaving Keith to mock the pop star’s lineup by himself. She returns with a tall black hat box.

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “What the hell is that.”

“Honestly I don’t know. But Shiro asked me to give this to you at halftime if they were in the lead with more than three touchdowns. He said to call too.” She laughs, “The sap wants to hear your voice.”

Reaching for the box, Keith slides off the lid, frowning at the darkness. “There’s nothing in here.”

“I grabbed the right one. I swear. It’s the only hat box in the spare room.”

Keith sticks his hand in, feeling around. His skin prickles when his fingers graze something. He pulls out a silver ring, studded with diamonds. His heart leaps into his throat, and he dumps the box onto his lap, picking up a sliver of paper. He sighs the question, “Will you marry me?”

Pidge is dumbstruck. “He used me to propose?”

Ignoring her, Keith tosses the box and launches himself across the room for his cell, dialing Shiro’s number before it’s too late.

 

When the clock runs out on the TV, and Shiro’s team is still in the lead, Pidge leaps up with a cheer and rushes for the fridge. “Let’s open the champagne!”

She pops it open with a scream and Keith flinches, hoping she didn’t hurt herself or his new apartment. By the time the overflow has subsided and Pidge finishes pouring the drinks, the interviewers are crawling the field. An announcer in the background takes up a microphone and begins speaking, but the channel they’re on isn’t broadcasting that speech. Only when it’s over and an interviewer is speaking to “season MVP Takashi Shirogane” do Pidge and Keith realize what’s happening.

She spits her bubbly all over the carpet. “HOLY SHIT.”

Keith’s hand is a vise around Pidge’s wrist. “Is what I think is happening, happening? Am I seeing this right?”

“Did he _know_?”

Shaking his head, Keith watches, speechless. Shiro is all smiles on the screen.

“So now that you’ve won the super bowl _and_ become MVP,” The interviewer shoves the microphone toward Shiro. “what’s next?”

Shiro readjusts his helmet in his hands and turns toward the invisible audience behind the lens, grin still in place. “A while ago I promised my fiancé that we’d go to a theme park, so I’m going to Disneyland. Happiest place on Earth with the love of my life sounds pretty good right now.” Shiro winks at the camera and shakes the interviewer’s hand before trotting off to join his team.

After panning over the winners of the event and the confetti filled stadium, the screen switches to a commercial and Pidge shuts the TV off, silent. She stares down at her glass and slowly moves it over to Keith’s, clinking it softly.

“Looks like your boy had a deal with Disney.” She glances around the apartment. “If you’re getting that kind of money, might as well move again. You could afford a damn penthouse on those funds.”

Keith laughs, “My boyfriend is now my fiancé and my fiancé is rich. I’m gonna get married in space.”

Pidge shakes his shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s got a whole team of friends now. That’d be costly.”

“You’re right.” Keith still beams, cheeks aglow with the warmth of knowing a bit of his future. “We should probably call Allura and tell her the good news.”

 

The next day, while washing strawberries, Keith perks up when he hears keys in the door. He smacks the faucet off and drops the colander, running for the foyer. Shiro barely has the door shut before Keith is in his arms, practically slamming him into the wall.

He grunts and laughs at Keith’s enthusiasm. “Hello to you too.”

“It’s been too long. I can’t stand it here alone.”

Shiro grins, satisfaction in his voice. “It’s been three days.”

Keith laments loudly, “A _lifetime_.” He pulls Shiro down for a kiss. One, two, maybe five kisses later, he gasps, “You’ve been gone a lifetime.”

“I’m sorry, babe.” He brushes Keith’s bangs back. “That much hasn’t changed in a lifetime, yeah?”

Keith sighs dramatically, “Unfortunately yes. I’ve been snatched up in an engagement.”

Shiro feigns a surprised gasp, “No!”

“Yes!”

“Who would dare?”

Leaning heavily into Shiro’s chest, Keith plays with the buttons on his shirt. “Just a millionaire named Takashi.”

“He sounds intriguing.”

Keith hums. “He is. I’m convinced he’s going to make the best husband ever.”

Shiro tries to laugh but emotion chokes him. “You think?”

Standing on his tip toes, Keith kisses each corner of Shiro’s mouth before his lips. “Absolutely. I’m madly in love with him and he’ll do anything for me. What more could I ever need?”

Leaning down, Shiro nibbles at Keith’s jaw. “If you’re happy, I won’t say another word.”

Keith purses his lips, grabbing Shiro’s hand. “There’s a few words left you can say.” He tugs him toward their bedroom, smirking. “Most of them are my name but I sure you can come up with a few clever things.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “Is that right?” He wraps his arms around Keith’s torso and lifts him into the air, hand sneaking up his shirt. “Because I’m inclined to call you my darling husband-to-be for the next few months.”

Craning his head to look at Shiro, Keith frowns. “ _Months_? As in we’re getting married this year?”

Shiro sets him down. “Well, yeah. I want to get married before training for the next season starts in July. So we can have a proper honeymoon?”

Tugging down his shirt, Keith throws up his hands. “We don’t have time for celebration sex then. We have to start planning! Now!”

Laughing, Shiro leans against the couch. “Since when are you Allura?”

“Since it applied to me.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro grabs Keith’s waist and guides him over. “Baby, it’s half past seven at night. Places are closing.” He kisses Keith’s nose. “We’ll start planning in the morning. First thing. I _promise_.”

“You swear?”

“Keith, the last time I broke a promise you held out on me for two weeks. I’m not doing that again.” He slides his hands down Keith’s thighs and pulls him up, standing and walking toward their bedroom. “Tomorrow.” Shiro kisses Keith with a soft hum. “Tomorrow we start the rest of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's read and supported this fic: thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your kudos and comments really kept me going; I could have never done this without you. 
> 
>  
> 
> Here's the poll link again, in case you're lazy like me and don't want to scroll back up.  
> https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/2W7KFNL

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever have questions or want to chat about my story, you can visit me at starlightshirogane.tumblr.com  
> I'm online damn near every day, so it'll be much easier to get in contact with me there.


End file.
